The World Is Not Enough: Tourniquet
by Mercedes Aria
Summary: A series of unfortunate events threatens to push Lyle over the edge... Miss Parker uncovers a Centre secret more bizarre than anything she eve dreamed... And Jarod's next pretend may be his last... JMPR possibilities. Reviews much appreciated.
1. Prologue: Haunted

_**Disclaimer:** The Pretender is the property of Steven Long Mitchell and Craig Van Sickle. All non-canon characters belong to the author. Song lyrics are the property of the respective song writer(s)_

_**Rating:** PG-13 (T) for dark themes and content._

_**Summary:** A series of unfortunate events threaten to send Lyle over the edge; Miss Parker discovers a Centre secret more bizarrethan she ever dreamed; and Jarod's next pretend just maybe his last... _

_**Author's Note:**This is a repost of the original story which was deleted (I cannot apologize enough to the adminstration of this site for my carelessness which led to the removal of the story!). Please be aware that this is a stripped-down version of the original. For more information about the original version, please see my bio._

_Since I lost the original reviews for Tourniquet, new ones would be so appreciated._

* * *

**Prologue: Haunted**

_**"You're the treasure I cherish so sparkling and bright, you were touched by the holy and beautiful light… Like angels that sing a heavenly thing, And you're daddy's little gi---"**_

_The thunderous splintering of plastic and glass abruptly ended the mellifluous song as the radio lay shattered on the cold tile floor, broken by a glass paperweight. The room was deathly quiet, arctic and callous to its captive. In time, a still rustle- skritch, scratch- was the only sound in the expansive area._

_The Centre was nothing if not cryptic, filled with secrets, lies, and dead end upon dead end. Within this hollow space encompassed by stark gray walls and a locked door was another of its enigmas. Granted this one was far more visible than most were. Typically dressed to the nines when showcased to others, he was once at the top of the chain-of-command.. Sinister, vile, malevolent were just a few of the nasty adjectives used to describe him. He was known as the go-to-man, the one who got the job done, and the one who cleaned up the messes. But Time had not been kind to him, his power and rank removed from him and he was now prisoner of this room, let out only when his services were needed._

_Skritch, scratch, skritch, scratch. The sound came in rhythmic waves. He heard a new song rising from the broken radio. Or was it coming from his own head? It made no difference...he heard it anyway- the haunted, lonely melody:_

_**"I tried to kill the pain but only brought more... I lay dying and I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal...**_

_**I'm dying praying bleeding and screaming... Am I too lost to be saved? Am I too lost...?"**_

**

* * *

**

**Background:** Tourniquet is set in the fourth season immediately after "Risque Business" and before "Road Trip". The reason for this will be made clear later on. When I initially wrote these opening chapters, I could not decide where I wanted this story to fit in the Pretenderverse and so there are desrecpancies with the fourth season- I plan on rewriting those chapters in the future.


	2. The Seventh Member

**Chapter 1: The Seventh Member**

_**"Where's the real life in your illusion... On the dark side of power and confusion..."**_

**Hrrrrrrrrrnnnnnn!** It seemed as though every vehicle decided to blast their horns in unison. Traffic was backed up for blocks and the foot traffic wasn't any lighter. The City was shutdown in gridlock.

At DT-UT on 2nd Avenue, the unrelenting flow of customers was responsible for the controlled chaos inside the coffee shop. It was a headache to find a seat, hardly a spot to stand, yet the people kept pouring in.

She was expertly weaving her way through the crowd when he first saw her. She was a beauty, no doubt, causing men's heads to turn as she passed by. She was petite and lithe with her scarlet tresses wound up in a topknot. Every so often she blew stray strands out of her gray eyes. 

He was sitting in a secluded corner fascinated by the graham crackers and marshmallows he held in his hands when she approached his table. The DT-UT was known for their build-your-own-s'mores, but this guy looked as though he was unsure of what to do with the s'more parts.

"The chocolate and marshmallows are supposed to go between the graham crackers," she told him with guarded look. She took the streaming hot espresso from her tray and set it in front of him.

He smiled up at her with a boyish grin. He was cute.

"I see," he said, doing as she had instructed. "Thank you," he glanced at her nametag. "Mia."

She gave him a bemused smile, brushed the crimson locks from her eyes, and left him to construct his s'more.

* * *

"So who exactly is this seventh member?"

Mr. Parker frowned at the young man standing in front of him. He shuffled the papers in his hands and decidedly ignored the question.

The office door swung open and slammed shut, heralding the arrival of Mr. Parker's daughter.

"What'd you want to see me about, Daddy?" Miss Parker took a position in front of her father's desk and folded her arms over her stomach. She shot a disgusted look at the young man. He returned her glare with a smirk.

"What's he doing here?" she spat impatiently.

"Now, Angel," Mr. Parker chided, rising from his seat. "Your brother has every right to be here. I need you both."

"Dad was just telling me about a Seventh Member that the Triumvirate wants brought in," Mr. Lyle snidely informed his sister.

"Who is this Seventh Member?" Miss Parker demanded, turning her attention to her father.

Mr. Parker cleared his throat. "It's imperative that the Seventh Member is located and brought in ASAP."

"He wouldn't explain it to me either," Mr. Lyle breathed.

Miss Parker shot him a dark glare. "Shut up!" she hissed.

If he heard them, Mr. Parker ignored it. "The nature of her connection with the Centre is highly sensitive. You," he looked pointedly at Lyle, "will operate on a need to know basis."

"What can we know?" Miss Parker was growing agitated and was eager for her father to get to the point. She had other things to do.

"Her name is Amelia," Mr. Parker began, leaning against the desk. "She's twenty-two, lives alone in an apartment, works in Manhattan, attends NYU. Her father is in prison, mother is in a mental institution, has two siblings whose whereabouts are unknown."

"What a Girl Scout," Lyle sneered. His attitude changed quickly- it was obvious that he no longer considered the mission serious.

Mr. Parker shot his son an annoyed glare, much to Miss Parker's delight.

"What's she to do with the Centre?" Miss Parker pressed the question once more.

"Doesn't matter," Mr. Parker dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand.

"So now what?" Miss Parker put her hands on her hips. "You're not going to put Lyle on Jarod's case while I go get this Amelia are you?"

Mr. Parker studied her face for a moment before answering.

"No," he said brusquely. Lyle looked disappointed. "Lyle is assigned to the Seventh Member Project. You are to stay on Jarod."

Miss Parker's jaw dropped. Lyle was always the one handed the choice projects- she was beginning to think the hunt for Jarod was just to keep her busy while her father and brother conspired with the Centre on God only knew what. She closed her mouth and let the expression on her face tell Mr. Parker how displeased she was.

"Come on, Angel," Mr. Parker cooed when he saw the look on her face. "We need Jarod just as much as we need the Seventh Member. I need my best girl on Jarod's tail."

Miss Parker rolled her eyes to the ceiling. There he went again trying to appease her with flattery. With one last contemptuous look thrown at Lyle, Miss Parker spun on her spiked heel and stormed from the room.

Lyle didn't bother to suppress a snicker as he watched her go. Then he turned to his father. The smile on his face faded when he saw the severe expression on Mr. Parker's visage.

Mr. Parker opened a drawer on the side of his desk and pulled out a red folder. He placed it on the desktop and slid it across to Lyle.

"This is the file on the Seventh Member," he told Lyle. He glared at the impudent and arrogant man before him.

"This won't be the cakewalk that you think it will be...you better tow the line on this line, Lyle," he threatened. "Don't screw it up."

Lyle seemed momentarily taken aback by the threat. "I won't," he snapped, jerking the file off of the desk. "Keep in mind that I'm not the one who's been chasing the same Pretender for years!"

"You didn't exactly get the job when you were assigned to the Pretender case. Watch your step, boy."

It was the last thing Lyle heard before he left Mr. Parker's office.

_

* * *

_

_**"Blurring and stirring, the truth and the lies so I don't know what's real and what's not... Always confusing- the thoughts in my head... So I can't trust myself anymore- I'm dying again..."**_

_He paced the floor, his heart racing and pounding in his ears. The walls of the gray room seemed to be closing in on him. Paranoia crept up his spine, threatening to overcome him, choke him, kill him. Kill him- death- dead. That's what they wanted- they wanted him dead. Who were they? It didn't matter. They wanted his life._

_He backed into one of the gray walls and crumpled to the floor in a pathetic heap. No, no, no... He knew nothing that would make him a threat. They didn't need to kill him...Let me live! No, no, no... they would... they would because he knew everything...everything and nothing all at once._

_Kill, kill, kill, kill! It was the same horrid chant that he had heard all of his life. Kill, kill, kill, kill! Was there ever a time when he didn't hear it? Before his name change? Maybe..._

_Why was it still haunting him? Kill, kill, kill, kill! He slammed his hands over his ears, desperately and vainly trying to shut out the voices and their terrible chant._

_Kill, kill, kill, kill!_

_Tears flooded down his cheeks as he dissolved into a sobbing mess._

_ Make it stop! I don't want to do this anymore! _

_But the voices did not stop. They grew louder and more vicious._

_"Do our bidding!" they cried. "Or you will die!"_

_He whimpered, curled in a fetal position against the cold hard floor._

_Kill, kill, kill, kill!_


	3. Of Secrets and Hidden Dangers

**Chapter 2: Of Secrets and Hidden Dangers**

_**"Clouds on your shoulder...Aren't they grazed by the afterglow? How quiet they gather when the storm's about to blow..."**_

**"Making the headlines for the seventh consecutive week is another brutal slaying. The body of a man in his late 50's was discovered late Sunday evening on the corner of 14th and University Street. Police have released few details regarding the grisly murder that they believe to be connected to the other recent Manhattan homicides. Investigators have ruled out a mafia or drug-related hit. While the victims have no obvious connections to each other, police are confident that this is the work of a single serial killer. However, they have few leads to follow..."**

Jarod turned from the televisions displayed in the department store window and headed uptown. While walking, he took a paper he had tucked under his arm and unfolded it. The front page reiterated the TV news report- Seventh slaying in Seven weeks. Jarod frowned. He had been following the police investigations of the murders for the past several weeks- ever since he had arrived in New York. From the start, he knew that these deaths were not carried out by the run-of-the-mill serial killer- they were far too clean and precise.

Jarod shivered. He wasn't sure if it was from the crisp autumn air or the eerie feeling that the murders had cast over the City. Quickening his pace, Jarod headed to his current residence, a studio apartment on the Upper Eastside. The wind seemed to pick up the faster he moved, pulling dark clouds with it.

Once "home", Jarod dug up a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut out the article on the murder. He clipped the cutting to the inside of a small notebook with a red cover. His brow furrowed in concentration as one by one, he read through the articles on all seven of the killings.

At the end of the last article, Jarod sighed. The victims ranged from a doctor to a landlord with no obvious connection other than they were all over the age of fifty. He frowned at the smiling face of the now deceased Judge Lloyd Dewitt, the latest fatality. With one hand over his mouth, Jarod deliberated over the mystery before him. Then a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. There was only one way to solve it, he knew, and that was to go on inside.

He closed the notebook and leaned back on the couch. The cell phone on top of the television caught his eye. The smile broadened... how long had been since he last checked in with his "friends" at the Centre?

_

* * *

"So your father wouldn't tell you anything about the Seventh Member?" Broots glance nervously between Sydney and Miss Parker. Miss Parker had called a meeting with them in Sydney's office._

Miss Parker gave him a withering glare. "That's what I just said isn't it?" She took out a lighter and lit up the cigarette that dangled between her crimson lips.

With a flip of her hair, she directed her next query to Sydney. "Have you ever heard about some Seventh Member? Or something similar?"

The psychologist considered her question. "No," he answered slowly. "I can't say that I have." He paused a beat. "Did your father happen to say who issued the order?"

Miss Parker exhaled a ring of smoke. "The Triumvirate."

"That explains why Lyle was assigned to the case," he murmured to himself.

"Humph," Miss Parker snorted. "Something's going on, Sydney. Something big. And I want to know what it is."

Whirling on Broots, who involuntarily jumped as she had that effect on him, Parker took the cigarette from her mouth and blew the smoke at him. "I want you to find this Seventh Member and any information relating to it," she jabbed a manicured finger at him. "And I want it before my brother gets it."

"What about Jarod?" The look Miss Parker shot him made Broots instantly regret saying anything other than "Yes, ma'am".

"I'll worry about Wonder Boy later," she snapped. Without a backward glance, Parker tossed the cigarette butt on the floor, squashing it with the toe of her shoe on her way out.

"I thought you quit smoking," Broots murmured absently to her retreating figure.

* * *

"So this is where it happened?"

"Yeah," Officer Adam Larson of the NYPD nodded. It was early in the morning, two days after the seventh body had been discovered. Police tape marked off the crime scene as a swarm of officers secured the area. "One of the goriest murders I've ever seen."

The flash of a camera light went off several times. Officer Larson moved over to the street light to get out of the forensic photographer's way.

"Weren't any photos taken the day of the murder?"

Larson shrugged. "I think so. I was called in on the case yesterday. Anyway, Detective Grayson asked that we cover the area one more time, just in case something was missed."

The photographer nodded and continued snapping away. Several minutes later, he straightened up and faced the policeman.

"I think that about does it."

Larson nodded again. "Good. Get those down to the crime lab ASAP."

The photographer nodded. "I'm on it."

"Hey!" Larson called as the photographer started to leave. "I don't think I caught your name."

The photographer stopped, looked back over his shoulder, and smiled.

"Jarod," his eyes twinkled. "Jarod Wayne."

* * *

In his office, Mr. Lyle sat at his desk studying the new red file he'd been given. There were seven pages of jargon that revealed very little about the Seventh Member Project. There was no information that even remotely hinted at a reason as to why this venture was so crucial to the Centre.

Perhaps what bother Lyle most was that he had no inkling as to what the Seventh Member Project could possibly be related to...And he did not like not knowing something about everything. At all.

Lyle stared at the biographical sheet on Amelia. Next to the first name was the acronym MIA. He understood it to mean Missing In Action, indicated by the status bracket- the Centre had lost yet another pet project. A quick scan of the rest of the document resulted in the same information that his father had given him. Absent-minded, he flipped to the last page and noticed a paragraph of tiny print at the bottom of the sheet. Lyle had to squint to read it. What it said surprised him.

_Fatal errors occurred in project members one through five in the initial preparation stages. The Sixth Member survived, but was ultimately considered a failure due to personality instability. The Seventh Member was the only success._

Lyle raised his eyebrows at the implication of what that could mean. His curiosity was piqued more now than ever before. What was this all about? There must be something in his memory concerning the Seventh Member. While he mulled this over, he fiddled with the outer perimeter of the folder, rubbing the edge between his forefinger and only thumb.

Suddenly, Lyle jerked his thumb away from the file. It was bleeding from a cut sustained by the folder. He stuck the smarting appendage into his mouth and directed a murderous glare at the file. His glare turned quickly into a curious gaze. The folder was separated at the place he had been messing with.

Lyle opened the drawer in the center of his desk and pulled out a letter opener. Carefully, he slid the utensil into the opening and gingerly pried the layers apart until the opening was large enough for him to fit his finger in without inflicting any additional injury to his person. The red folder cover fell away easily enough to reveal the true color- black.

The under-director let out a low whistle. There was more to this mystery than he realized. The true outer edge was trimmed in red, the same shade as the interior. Lyle had heard whispers about a combination red/black file before- a file which contained the most damning secrets of the Triumvirate and Centre, but there was never any solid evidence of their existence...until now and he held it in his hands.

A low laugh rumbled in his throat. With a wicked smirk, Lyle replaced the red cover over the folder. He wondered if his father even knew about the black file. It delighted him that he was possibly the only one, aside from the file's originators, who knew about it. And even the creators didn't know he knew.

_There must be another file_, Lyle mused, _one for the Sixth Member..._

It was in that moment that Lyle decided to keep this little revelation to himself. He would most certainly give the pretense that he was following the Triumvirate's orders, but he wouldn't guarantee a prompt return of merchandise- especially if the Seventh Member could somehow benefit him.

Lyle closed the file and began to whistle to himself.

_Oh, how Daddy Parker chose the wrong offspring to trust with this!_

* * *

A thin beam of light emanated from the door to Lyle's office that was slightly ajar. Miss Parker was surprised that he was still in the Centre and not off pursuing his new mission. It infuriated her to no end that he was the one at the helm of the venture that no one seemed to know anything about.

As much as she hated going anywhere near Lyle's office, she couldn't resist the chance to see if she could get any additional information about the Seventh Member Project. Not that she expected her brother to share, but she might be able to get a glimpse of the file if she could distract him enough.

Lyle was still sitting at his desk when Miss Parker threw the door open. He looked up at her with an I-know-something-you-don't know expression. She would have liked nothing more than to slap that look off his arrogant features but she restrained herself.

"What are you still doing here?" Miss Parker demanded. She saw that the file was in Lyle's hand.

"Working," he said shortly, raising an eyebrow. "Better question is- what are you doing in my office? Shouldn't you be looking for Jarod?" He opened the folder and feigned interest in its contents. "Or is the task too much for you, Sis?"

Miss Parker bit back a growl and the growing urge to strangle him. "I have a lead I'm getting ready to follow-up," she lied. "I saw your light on and decided to see if anything was wrong." 

Lyle gave a derisive snort. "How considerate of you," he scoffed. "Well, let me put your mind at ease, Sis. I'm fine. Sorry to disappoint you." 

He stood, walked around to the front of his desk, and leaned against it, the folder still open. He held the file precariously in his good hand, allowing one of the flaps to dangle and flash Miss Parker glimpses of the internal contents. He knew full well why she was there- and he was taunting her. 

"So... you wanna see what's inside?"

Miss Parker wasn't that gullible. She regarded with him with unmasked contempt. "No," she said flatly.

"Liar," Lyle scolded her, snapping the folder shut. "You're just dying to see what's inside."

He stood up and sauntered over to her with the file tucked securely under his arm. Standing within inches of her face, he leaned over and whispered in her ear. "It's just eating you up that Dad gave this to me, isn't it? Who's Daddy's favorite now?"

Miss Parker didn't answer. She was staring over his shoulder at his desk. Lying on the upper corner was a picture of a young Asian girl, reminding her of the monster that her sibling was. She retreated a few steps from him and drew herself up to her full height.

"This isn't over, Lyle," she warned. "Not by a long shot!"

* * *

_**I've been looking in the mirror for so long that I've come to believe my soul's on the other side...**_

_He stared at his image in the tiny mirror. The disturbed eyes that stared back frightened him. What was that creature on the other side studying him so intensely? He reeled backwards... That thing wasn't human!_

_"Look!" the voices jeered. "Look at what you are!"_

_They laughed at him. "Monster, monster, monster!"_

_**Oh the little pieces falling, shatter- shards of me; to sharp to put back together, to small to matter, but big enough to cut me into so many little pieces...**_

_He could bare it no longer. Wrenching the mirror from the wall, he spat on the Thing looking at him and threw the image against concrete floor. The mirror splintered into hundreds of tiny pieces. He gawked at the shards. "Broken mirror: seven years of bad luck to come" chimed over and over in his ears. Tearing his gaze from the mess, he backed into the door._

_The voices continued to cackle maniacally._

_Footsteps resounded in the corridor outside of his cell. His heart rate spiked and waves of panic crashed over him. They were coming! No, no, no! Not again. He had to hide from them- but where? Behind the cot in the corner? No! They could still see him. The toilet was exposed and so offered no sanctuary. Neither did the tub in the center of the room. There must be somewhere to run..._

_Too late! They were at the door. He bolted away from the door as though it was on fire. He heard them undo the lock. He heard the doorknob turn. It seemed to turn for an eternity..._

_The door opened. Two massive men dressed in black with the same close cropped hairstyles entered the room. He cowered. A third man, the one he feared most, stepped out from behind the first two. The quiet squeak, squeak of the wheels of the oxygen tank echoed in the room. The metal door slammed shut behind him._

_The two men stepped aside. One noticed the broken glass on the floor. He motioned to his leader, the one with the oxygen tank. The pale man glanced at it, then turned his slithering gaze on to him._

_"Misbehaving again, are we?" Raines wheezed. He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. He gestured to his men._

_He tried to run from them, but they were waiting for him. It took only one to hold him. The other went over to the ceramic bathtub and turned on the cold water._

_The voices snickered gleefully. They knew what was about to happen._

_Raines took a small black pouch from the side of his oxygen tank's cart. From the pouch, he unwrapped a glass syringe. It was filled with an inky fluid._

_**So I bleed, I bleed, and I breathe, I breathe now...**_

_He gasped for air. The man grabbed him by the throat with one hand while restraining his wrists with the other._

_"Struggling will only make it worse," Raines said coolly. "You know that."_

_The man threw him violently against the dinghy cot, pressing his face into the dirty blanket. He felt a searing pain as the syringe pressed into the base of his skull. He screamed into the bed. Suddenly, he was released._

_**Bleed, I bleed, And I breathe, I breathe, I breathe-**_

_The room swam before his eyes. He could feel blood trickle down from the wound in the back of his head. He tried to lift his hand to it, but he couldn't find his neck. The bone in his hand seemed to turned to lead and his hand smashed heavily into his thigh._

_"Take him to the tub," Raines hissed. _

_He tried to protest, to cry out. But he lost the words somehow in the constant flux of his environment. Two pairs of vice-like hands gripped him on both sides and lifted him into the tub. The water was frigid, but his body did not respond to the shock of extreme temperature. His consciousness was slipping from him, but not the terror. However, the water enveloping his head silenced the voices. They could not swim. It was then that he lost all sense of reality as he was completely entombed in the aquatic sepulcher._

_**I breathe no more...**_


	4. Who's Afraid of the Boogeymen?

**Chapter 3: Who's Afraid of the Boogeymen?**

_"Don't let us make imaginary evils, when you know we have so many real ones to encounter."_

_-Oliver Goldsmith_

_**"Don't say I'm out of touch with this rampant chaos - your reality... I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge. The nightmare I built, my own world to escape...**_

_**Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming- cannot cease for the fear of silent nights... Oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming...**_

_**In my field of paper flowers and candy clouds of lullaby, I lie inside myself for hours and watch my purple sky fly over me...**_

_Water spilled over him as he struggled to sit upright in the small tub. The liquid hydration cascaded over the edge, splashing onto the floor. His head ached and his neck throbbed as though he had been sleeping for an eternity._

_Hehehe._

_What was that?_

_He-he. _

_He pulled himself out of the basin. His foot stepped into a pool of water- the floor felt like ice. He shivered as his soggy clothing clung to his body, chilling him to the core. He searched the room. Maybe they left him a change of clothes._

_For you? Feh, not a chance!_

_What was that?_

_There were no clothes. He knew there wouldn't be. _

_Hehe...Haha._

_He stood in the center of the room, rooted to the spot. Where was that coming from? He shook his head as though to rid himself of the laugh._

_His mind was still foggy as he scanned the room, uncertain of what he was looking for. A glimmer of reflected light caught his eye. On the far wall of the austere room hung a small square mirror. Memories slammed into him with the force of a freight train. He staggered backwards. The laughter reverberated in his head until he could bear it no more._

_No!_

_Yes! They hissed. _

_There was silence._

_The giggle began first, then the chant._

_Monster, monster, monster!_

_No! No! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!_

_Yes! We win again! We always win!_

_He whimpered fearfully._

_Kill, kill, kill, kill!_

* * *

_**"Meeting you with a view to a kill..."**_

She was standing on a street corner outside of a coffee shop when he first saw her. She seemed impatient for the light to change so she could cross the busy intersection. Her dress was sloppy, torn and tattered blue jeans, a faded denim jacket over a black t-shirt. She was no fashionista, but she was a looker. 

Though he preferred Asian women, Lyle was quite sure that he could develop a taste for Irish colleens- at least this one. He turned his thoughts back to the task at hand. The girl he was watching certainly fit the physical description of Amelia- 5'4", approximately 108 pounds, red hair, gray eyes. Lyle frowned. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting the Seventh Member to look like, but this wasn't it. The girl was frail and looked positively lost.

He couldn't see why the Triumvirate had made it seem as though she were a difficult one to locate. He had found her within a matter of hours after arriving in the City.

_Unless it's a diversionary tactic_, he thought darkly. _To keep me busy while Dad and Parker conspire together._

What a disappointment the hunt had turned out to be. Lyle also couldn't see what use she could be to him much less to the Centre. _Then again, things aren't always what they appear to be,_ he reminded himself. 

_**"Face to face in secret places, feel the chill..."**_

She darted across the street at the first opportunity. Her pace didn't slow once she was on the other side. She continued to jog down the street. It was dusk already and she hated to be out after dark- that's when all the freaks and creeps came out from under their rocks.

Mia brushed a lock of hair that had escaped from her ponytail out of her eyes. She glanced nervously around at her surroundings and quickened her pace. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

She had a small studio apartment on York Avenue- she knew that much. However, she was having difficulty remembering how to get there. Mia sighed. She had been having a lot of problems with her memory lately and those problems seemed to be getting worse. 

She pulled her thin jacket tighter around her narrow shoulders. Fall was definitely setting in with winter close on its tail. Strangely, Mia could not remember what a New York winter was like, even though she knew she had been in one before.

_**"Nightfall covers me, but you know the plans I'm making..."**_

Lyle watched her with mild perplexity. He found it peculiar that she appeared uncertain of her way, though her record indicated she had lived in the City for two years.

_Strange..._

He remained always a step behind her, though at times he was so close that he could smell the coffee that still lingered on her clothes and in her hair. In her growing bewilderment, she failed to realize that she was, indeed, being followed.

She came to an abrupt halt at the entrance to Bagel Bob's on 86 and York. York...the street name seemed vaguely familiar. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast and that it wanted something more substantial than gourmet coffee. Mia stuck her hand inside the front pocket of her jeans. Change jangled inside as her hand closed on a few bills. Bagel Bob's was cheap enough that she could at least get a small dinner.

She pushed the door of the diner open and felt the warm air kiss her icy nose and the balmy aroma of baking bread wrapped its delicious fragrance around her and invited her in. She sighed dreamily as she imagined as a cozy country kitchen with a grandmother inside cooking homemade breads and other goodies. The ring of the cash registers and shouting of patrons shattered her daydream. Mia took a place at the end of the shortest line that was still very long.

_**"Until we dance into the fire. That fatal kiss is all we need. Dance into the fire, to fatal sounds of broken dreams..."**_

She didn't see him follow her into the bagel shop or step in line right behind her. She didn't see him lean in close to her or feel him lightly finger her tied up hair. She was completely unaware of his presence, too lost in her own thoughts to notice much of anything.

He snickered silently to himself.

Perhaps she never would have seen him if she hadn't accidentally elbowed him as she reached into her pocket for a second time.

She jumped as she spun around. Her eyes were wide in surprise, enormous with apology. A thin hand flew to her open mouth.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, not able to look directly into his piercing gaze. "I'm such a klutz."

"Not all," he smiled, barely touching her jacket sleeve. "I shouldn't have been so close. The crowd you know..." he said, as though to excuse his nearness.

"Of course," her voice was so soft that it was difficult to hear it over the din of business. Her eyes remained chained to the floor, but feeling his intense gaze, crimson flooded her cheeks. She turned back towards the counter.

Obviously, she was quite taken by him. He chuckled under his breath. Of course, she was. Who wouldn't be?

_**"Choice for you is the view to a kill. Between the shades, assassination standing still..."**_

Her hands shook as she reached into her pocket once more, being painstakingly careful not to bump the man behind her again. Her cheeks flushed for a second time as the memory of his azure eyes and handsome face flashed into her head. And that wasn't all she had noticed about him. It was impossible not to observe how well he was dressed. An expensive suit, probably Armani, a deep scarlet silk shirt and matching tie, Italian leather shoes. What on earth was he doing in Bagel Bob's? He belonged somewhere far ritzier, like Azalea Ristorante.

"What'll yer have?"

Mia started slightly when the cashier spoke. What was with her today...she was so jumpy all of a sudden.

"Uh..." she stared up at the menu. She looked more at the prices than at the actual items. The scent of the food

was making her mouth water- it all smelled so good! "Lemme have the cinnamon raisin walnut bagel and the roast beef Bobwich." 

The man behind the counter tallied up her order. "That'er be 5.75."

Mia counted over the currency in her hand. Again color spread over her noble features. She had made an error in her math and did not have enough to cover the meal.

"Maybe I'll just have the bagel," she whispered, ashamed of making such a stupid mistake.

The man seemed annoyed, but said nothing.

Her order came up quick and Mia hurriedly paid him and moved away from the counter. She dreaded going back out into the cold night, so she chose a table in a secluded corner of the diner to eat her meager dinner. She sat with her back to the crowd and held the bagel under her nose, taking in its luscious odor. She sighed and closed her eyes, weary from a long day at work.

The sound of a tray being set on a table caused her to open her eyes. She was astonished to find the handsome stranger, whom she had so rudely bumped in line, taking a seat across from her. He smiled warmly at her, a smile that made her feel...well, sick inside actually...but not in a bad way.

He said nothing as he took a plate off of his tray and sat it in front of her. Mia's eyes enlarged when she saw the Roast Beef Bobwich on the plate- the very sandwich she couldn't afford.

"You look like you could stand to put on a few pounds," was all he said about the food.

Mia's jaw opened and shut, but no words came out.

"You don't mind me sitting here, do you?" he looked genuinely concerned that he might have offended her. He started to get up. "I should have asked first."

Mia's heart raced and she felt like a social misfit, not knowing what to say or do.

"You're fine," she assured him, though not without her voice trembling. She glanced up to see him sitting down again. His eyes caught hers and she found his cobalt gaze hypnotic and impossible to look away from.

She ducked her head, wishing she had worn her hair down so that she could hide behind it as she often did.

She stared at the sandwich. 

"Thank you," she said quietly.

The stranger smiled.

_**Dance into the fire when all we see... is the view to a kill..."**_

* * *

Miss Parker ran into Broots in the hall as she was stepping out of her office...literally.

"Are you blind?!" she barked hotly, giving him a scathing look.

Broots didn't bother to inform her that the collision was actually her fault. He knew better. Miss Parker was in an even worse mood than normal because no headway had been made in either Jarod's case or the Seventh Member Project.

"Well?" Parker raised an eyebrow. "Don't just stand there, move!"

Broots seriously considered walking away.

"Actually, I came to see you."

Parker held up a hand to prevent him from saying anything further. She glanced up and down the corridor suspiciously before grabbing Broots by the shirtfront and dragging him into her office. The door slammed firmly shut behind them.

"You find something?"

Broots, standing in the center of the room, nodded. He raised his hands as though he was going to clasp them in front of him. Halfway through the motion, he put them behind his back- he couldn't decide what to do with them.

Parker waited in stony silence.

Finally, he opted for shoving them deep into his pockets.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "I'm afraid I'm still coming up blank on the Seventh Member Project."

Parker swore under her breath.

"But," he hastily continued, "I did find that Mr. Lyle left several hours ago for New York City."

"The Seventh Member is there?"

"That's what I would assume." Broots bit his bottom lip and glanced around nervously as though they might not be entirely alone. "But that's not what I came to tell you."

Parker raised her brow in interest- she instantly picked up on the change in his demeanor; he seemed afraid. She gestured for him to go on.

"On my way down here, I saw a group of men outside of your father's office."

"And?"

"And, they weren't exactly your average group of guys."

"Spit it out, Broots!"

"They were all wearing black trench coats and dark sunglasses- the real large kind with oval frames- they kept them on in the building. Their skin was really pale- white actually, like powdered sugar." He paused to catch his breath before barreling on. "And their hair was all the same...jet black and slicked back- so shiny it looked like it was lacquered on. They were like...like boogeymen."

Boogeymen? Broots could see the mocking jeer on her face. He wished he had phrased that differently, but it was the most accurate description of them.

"How many where there?" Parker did not like the sound of this. She had planned to follow Lyle, but now it looked as though it might be prudent to remain in the Centre.

"I counted ten, there may have been more."

"Hiding behind a plant, were we?"

Broots flushed scarlet. "More like a column," he muttered.

"Good work," Parker said abruptly, striding towards the door. She felt it was time that she had a little heart-to-heart with her father. "I want you to keep on these goons. Find everything you can on them."

Broots gulped. He was afraid she was going to say that.

* * *

She laughed. Her laugh, like everything about her, was delicate.

_Crystal bells_, he thought, _her laughter sounds like crystal bells_

Mia wiped the crumbs off of her table with a napkin. She could feel Lyle watching her. He was nice, not like most of the jerks that stopped to talk to her after leering obscenely at her. He was a gentleman and it was a refreshing change. Still, she didn't know what he saw in her. People like him didn't look twice at people like her.

There was an innocence about her that intrigued Lyle. She was shy and he liked that- it put him in control. There were two things he discovered about her that greatly surprised him. First, she had very low self-esteem. Being the knockout that she was, even in threadbare clothes, he found it difficult to believe that she thought of herself as unattractive. Secondly, he had never seen the Centre leave a project in such a state of poverty. Even if she was a runaway. Jarod was one and he certainly didn't live like a homeless person unless he chose to. Of course, he also leeched money directly from the Centre's Swiss accounts, but still...

His thoughts drifted momentarily. Wouldn't it be fun to take her shopping on Fifth Avenue? He could buy her the most expensive and trendy clothing and accessories, then set her on a runaway to model it. Just like a living doll...his doll. The idea appealed greatly to him- it had been awhile since he'd had his own personal project.

Returning his focus to the present, he saw that Mia was anxious to leave. Being the perfect gentleman that he was, he naturally offered to walk her home. Granted, he had already won her trust and could have taken her immediately back to the Centre- mission accomplished. But where was the fun in that?

Mia graciously accepted his offer.

_Didn't Mommy ever warn you not to talk to strangers_ He suppressed a giggle.

She admitted sheepishly to not being able to remember exactly how to get to her apartment. Lyle wondered if her inability to recall such a simple fact was somehow the Centre's doing. He wouldn't be surprised if it was.

Knowing how foolish she must be feeling, the sensitive child she was, he quickly put her ease. He reached out and touched her hair, trailing his finger around her ear. She shivered and gave him a funny look. 

"Sorry," he mumbled. He withdrew his hand and put it in his pocket.

She gave him her address and he knew exactly where her place was. He had mentioned that he was not from New York, but Mia figured he must spend a great deal of time in the City to know his way around so well. She felt his hand on the small of her back- in a brotherly gesture that guided her through a crowd of people on the street corner. She noticed that he always kept his left hand in his pocket. She wondered why. A curious quirk perhaps...she was much too shy to ask.

The closer they got to her apartment complex, the greater the sense of urgency Lyle felt. He frowned and gripped Mia's arm in a firm hold. Something wasn't quite right. Every muscle in his body tensed and his jaw tightened. Quickening their pace, he kept vigilant watch on their surroundings and the people they passed.

A shadow moved with them. He ran the fingertips of his free hand across his gun- the cool metal reassured him slightly.

The silhouette continued to shadow their movements.

It was as they were reaching the outer door of the apartments, that Lyle saw the man in the black trench coat and dark sunglasses. His hair was indistinguishable from the darkness that cloaked him, but his snow-white complexion stood out in stark contrast to the rest of him.

He never lost his cool, but Lyle was very concerned. He had seen this man before or someone like him, but details eluded him. He, like Mia, found certain memories impossible to hold on to.

The under-director and the shadow man locked gazes. They engaged in a silent staring contest. The shadow man raised his colorless hand in a salute and vanished before Lyle's eyes.


	5. Lonely in Your Nightmare

**Chapter 4: Lonely In Your Nightmare**

_**Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other. "**_**_-_Francis Bacon**

* * *

The hall was dark. It was difficult to see much of anything. There was eeriness to it all. Mia shuddered as she fumbled for the light switch. Her fingertips grazed the switch plate. Light swathed the narrow corridor. She was embarrassed to have him see where she lived.

The apartment was cramped quarters even for one person. There was no distinction between the living room and kitchen, which only had a stove and oven, and a short refrigerator and a minute icebox. In the living room that was little more than open space were a cot, three folding chairs, a wooden chest, and small television. The walls were dinghy and where there was wallpaper, it was cracked and peeling. No matter how much she cleaned, the place was always dirty.

Mia was more than a little worried about having a strange man in her apartment. A thousand thoughts flew through her head and the ones about the recent string of killings lingered longer than the others. She hadn't expected him to come in...but he did. She hadn't expected him to stay...but he was.

Lyle's thoughts were still on the encounter with the man outside and barely noticed the state of disrepair around him. At length, he turned his knife-like gaze on her and noticed her nervousness. He smiled at her- a long, closed-lip smile- an inviting, safe, affable smile- one that gave her every reason in the world to trust him.

_Jarod isn't the only one who can pretend..._

If the dearth of her home bothered him, he was gracious enough not to say so. He lounged against a wall in the kitchen, arms folded over his waist and one foot crossed over the other.

"Mia," he said, letting her name roll over his tongue as though it were sweet wine. "Mia...is that short for Amelia?" Cleverly, Lyle sought to confirm her identity as the Seventh Member by disguising his inquisition in small talk.

Mia seemed to sag against the stove, ashen and cold. She started to shake her head "no", then stopped, looked at him helplessly, and shrugged.

"I don't know," she admitted.

Lyle raised his eyebrows. He couldn't say honestly that he was surprised. The Centre was rather keen on only giving projects first or last names, never both. The stripping of one's identity was the first step in assuming control.

"Last name?" he queried, already knowing the answer.

It was that moment, when she looked up at him, that he first truly noticed her eyes. They were mammoth and stormy gray like the sea in dire weather. And in those eyes was all the sadness of the world. To his surprise, Lyle discovered that he could not look long into her gaze for fear he would drown.

"I can't remember," she said in a hushed tone. "I must have one...everyone does."

_Not everyone..._

"What about family?"

She looked away from him, her features marred in concentration. Finally, she spoke.

"I do have a family," she sounded a bit uncertain as though minutiae were hard to recall. "I know my father is in prison. And my mom had a breakdown when he was convicted- she's been in Bellevue State Hospital ever since..."

_How convenient..._He mused. _I wonder what role the Centre played in all that._

"I have a brother," she went on, sounding even more doubtful than before. "And maybe a sister. But I have no idea where they are."

_I'll bet the Centre does..._

"You must think I'm stupid for not knowing my own past."

He heard something in her voice break. He found himself suddenly by her side.

"Not all," he declared, in complete honesty, "I can sympathize actually."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Really?"

He inclined his head slightly. His fingertips brushed her cheek. "I only have one name myself."

_Even after discovering my parentage, I wasn't allowed to claim the name Parker, _he thought bitterly. His sister's image flashed into his head. He could feel the anger burning within- that old familiar feeling of hate began to boil again.

He turned his thoughts to the pretty thing before him.

"How long have you been having these memory failures?" he asked, removing his hand from her face and returning to his place by the wall.

Mia, who had been unable to breathe while he had been so close, inhaled a gulp of air.

"Dunno. I can remember my childhood up to eight shortly before my dad was arrested. Then some things here and there, but it's like there are large chunks of time that are missing. Black gaps that I can't fill in. Some times I wake up in places and I don't know where I am or how I got there."

She noticed his gaze continually shifting to the window and outside world. She watched as he moved to the portal and peered out through the broken, dust-laden blinds.

"They're always there," she informed him solemnly and suddenly.

He whipped around as though she had startled him. She saw the flash of metal under his jacket- it didn't faze her.

_Maybe he's cop..._It was possible. They had come after her before because of an interest in her father...not that she could tell them anything, though.

"Where?" he asked, still looking out of the window.

"Everywhere. At work, at school, here. Everywhere. Always lurking outside of wherever I am."

"How long?"

"Always." She paused then joined him at the window.

It was a peculiar sensation to her to be so close to another living, breathing being. She could smell the spice of his cologne, hear his steady breathing, and feel the warmth of his body. Warmth...that was that strangest sense of all- to feel warmth in her world where it was always cold and always night.

"You can see them, too?" she sounded amazed.

He nodded. She sighed in relief.

"I thought I was crazy...seeing boogey men."

His expression was dour, his brow knit together in apprehension.

"Maybe we're both crazy."

When she saw that he was serious, Mia felt something deep down inside stir. It felt like something rolling, prodding, searching, and reaching to break out. It was not an uncommon feeling. After awhile, it settled. Mia rested her cheek against his shoulder- he was nearly a head taller then she. The dark surrounded them- the lights inside flickered and danced and finally went out. For once in her short life, Mia did not feel alone.

_

* * *

The clicking of leather shoes against the tile floor echoed in the corridor of the morgue. Jarod stopped in front of an older man who was standing at the end of the hallway, looking impatient. His chestnut brown hair was graying and his thin face tattled on his age, but his green eyes were sharp and intelligent. He was dressed identically to his younger counterpart- dark blue suit, pale blue dress shirt, and dark tie._

"Good evening, Chief," Jarod nodded cordially.

Chief Inspector Calvin McNamara eyed him.

"You're late," he barked.

That was news to Jarod and the surprise showed in his eyes.

"Really?" he frowned and glanced at his watch. "According to my watch, I'm-"

McNamara waved his hand dismissively. He turned his back on the Pretender.

"Follow me."

Jarod followed the Inspector into a titled room where several bodies lay covered in stark white sheets. Two other men joined them. One was the coroner, a thin grim-looking man in his forties, and the other a chubby, red-faced forensics man.

The coroner, James Mooreland, shook each of their hands.

"Gentleman," he nodded with a weary sigh. "I see you're running ahead of schedule tonight."

McNamara gave a disgruntled grunt and shot an annoyed look at Jarod.

"Please," Mooreland said, gesturing to the room, "make yourselves at home."

The Inspector ignored the coroner and began to pace the rows of corpses. Jarod followed close on his heels.

Without warning, McNamara stopped, causing Jarod to nearly crash into him. The Inspector wordlessly threw back the covers to reveal two hideously mutilated bodies.

"We know very little," he told Jarod dismally. "We believe the killer to be either a very small male or a female- there's not enough evidence to be positive which it is. Whoever it is, they like to cut 'em." He pointed to the deep cuts that covered the bodies. "Always the type of blade- a match in each case."

He recovered the victims and uncovered another- a woman in her early fifties.

"Incisions were made to her jugulars," McNamara explained. "And she was strung up by her ankles..."

"To drain the blood," Jarod finished, grimacing at the brutality of the crime. He looked away.

"Yeah, then she was dumped in the East River."

McNamara turned to face Jarod.

"Sussex there," he nodded to the man talking to the coroner a few feet away, "is the new chief of Forensics. You'll be seeing a lot of him."

The Pretender nodded as the other man walked up to them.

"Stanley Sussex," the Inspector introduced the men to each other. "This is Jarod Wayne. He'll be heading this case."

Sussex took Jarod's extended hand and they shook.

"Say," Sussex gave him an inquisitive look, "didn't you use to be a Forensics photographer just a while back?"

Jarod smiled slightly. "I got promoted," he elucidated with a shrug.

Sussex raised an eyebrow. "Some promotion," he muttered under his breath.

Jarod turned to back to the Inspector.

"What about Grayson, sir?" he asked with sincere concern in regards to the man originally assigned to the case. "I thought this was his deal."

McNamara rubbed at his nose. "Grayson's had some sort of breakdown...something."

"Oh," Jarod seemed stunned. "I didn't know."

"I though it best that he take an extended break, pull himself together. This case is your responsibility now." He turned abruptly, not allowing Jarod a chance to question him.

"All yours now, doctor," he told Sussex, who nodded before he began his examinations.

"Let's go," McNamara snapped at Jarod. "We've got a lot of work to do."

_

* * *

The hall was quiet. Too quiet. Miss Parker didn't trust quiet Centre hallways. The click of her heels sounded thunderous and echoed in her ears. Her face twisted into an annoyed frown._

A shadow moved.

Miss Parker whirled around, almost knocking herself off balance. There nothing in the passage that wasn't suppose to be there.

Parker cursed at her tenseness. She resumed her course to her father's office, cool and collected, but her pace was quicker.

The space near the door to her father's office seemed shady, despite being in a well-lit area. The closer she got the darker it got. Suddenly, the shadows converged and three figures emerged.

They were Broots' boogeymen. Parker involuntarily took a step back. They towered over her, slowly advancing and encompassing her.

"What the-"Parker was completely surrounded. Anger churned within her. They were trying to intimidate her- whoever they were- and she didn't like it.

"Get out of my way," she snarled as she tried to push her way past them. An impenetrable wall of black coats met her.

"We think that is it not possible," one said.

"Look, I don't know who you are, but you'd better move!" She crouched down slightly in a defensive posture, ready to fight if she had to.

"You are here to see Mr. Parker, no?"

She straightened up- she could be menacing as well as they could.

"Yes." She gave her jacket a sharp tug.

Their faces remained smooth, devoid of emotion. "Mr. Parker is not taking visitors now."

"Visitor!" she spat. "I'm his daughter."

Parker had had enough of this farce. If she couldn't push her way out, she sure could shoot her way out.

The one in front of her took hold of her wrist as she reached for her gun. Her mouth drop open in shock- his hand was like ice. His gaze bore into her through his sunglasses.

"No exceptions."

_

* * *

Water filled the sink, roaring as swirled down the drain. He leaned over the faucet watching the liquid disappear into the sewers of the City. The sound of the running water should have been soothing, but instead it put him on edge._

Violently, he slammed the valve off. Breathing heavily, he slowly lifted his head until he could see his image in the mirror that was crudely tacked onto the wall. He stared at his reflection- avoiding his own eyes. Water droplets trickled over his features, trailing down his chin. He lifted a custom tailored sleeve and wiped the moisture away.

He had won this phase of the game- she was his now, completely under his spell. Convinced that he was a kind-hearted soul, a possible kindred spirit, she would do anything he asked. All he had to do was decided what he wanted her to do.

"**LYLE!"** The scream of terror ripped through the still air like a missile.

He reacted without thinking, bolting out of the bathroom and into the main room of the apartment.

Mia stood with her back against the window. Her face was even whiter than normal and her eyes impossibly large with horror.

He saw the source of her terror- the man from the street and he had brought three of his friends. Instantly, he was at her side. Whoever they were, he wasn't about to let them steal his prize.

She clung to him as though he was a lifesaver, unaware that she was in as much danger with him as with the others in the room. He gripped her tightly in her left arm...too tightly. His nails dug into her back- pain raced up her spine.

She squirmed in his grasp- he didn't mean to hurt her, but at the moment he couldn't be concerned with it. He pulled his gun out with his free hand and leveled it at the men. They were not effected by it.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"It is not your concern," one informed him in a still even timbre.

"I beg to differ," he spat back.

Mia trembled against him. The rage in his voice scared her nearly as much as the men in black coats.

"We have come for you," the second one motioned at them both.

Lyle didn't quite understand what he meant and he didn't care. He was _not _going to lose the Seventh Member to them- over his dead body- and he'd survived death several times.

"Come quiet and all will be well, no?" said the third.

"We no harm," the fourth stepped forward.

An odd metallic taste flooded Lyle's mouth. He swallowed. Blood...in his fury he had bitten his tongue. The taste had a bizarre effect on him. Turned the weapon on the one who had advanced on them.

"Yeah, well, I will!" He grinned sadistically and fired off three rounds into the Black Coat.

The man shuddered and stumbled backwards. His associates turned their attention to their fallen comrade. It was enough of a diversion for them to escape.

Lyle roughly shoved Mia in front of him and through the front door.

"Run!" he commanded.

She ran.


	6. Scary Monsters and Super Creeps I

**Chapter 5: Scary Monsters and Super Creeps- Part 1**

"_**When I looked in her eyes they were blue but nobody home... She could've been a killer if she didn't walk the way she do... She opened strange doors that we'd never close again... Scary monsters, super creeps keep me running, running scared..."**_

* * *

"_We found them."_

"_Yessss?"_

"_They were as you said they would be."_

"_Get on with it."_

"_Mr. Lyle and the girl- they were together."_

"_I know that, you idiot! Where are they now?"_

_There was silence, except for heavy, raspy breathing._

"_We do not know."_

"_What?"_

"_They escaped."_

"_How is that possible?"_

"_He shot one of us."_

_Collective consciousness apparently had its drawbacks._

"_Get back out there. Find them and bring them in."_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_The girl is to be brought back alive at any cost. As for the other, alive would be best- but don't hesitate to kill him if necessary."_

"_We will not fail you, master."_

* * *

Jarod surveyed the police station, his new home for the time being. A young officer paced the floor nearby as Jarod passed. 

"Evening, Mr. Wayne," the young man greeted him with a nervous catch in his voice.

"Evening, Leonard," Jarod returned cheerfully. He nodded at the officer's shoe. "Might wanna tie that," he advised.

Leonard gave his superior a funny look before glancing at his shoe. Sure enough it was untied.

Jarod just smiled and kept walking.

The Precinct was a hub of frantic commotion as the current criminal activity had hit an all time high. It took Jarod some time to weave his way through the station and finally reach his destination- a door with a sign that read "Detective". There was no last name.

The office was a mess inside. Papers were scattered in disheveled piles everywhere. Used mugs and old take-out containers, some with food still in them, littered the place. A file cabinet drawer stood open- its contents in no better state than the rest of the place.

Jarod was taken aback by the chaos of the room. From what he had heard, Grayson was a compulsive neat freak.

_Wow, Grayson must have had some breakdown for his office to look like this...stress of the job, maybe. _

But Jarod had a feeling it was more than just stress.

"Excuse me," someone standing in the corner behind him cleared his throat.

The Pretender turned to see a jittery young man in his late twenties.

"I'm sorry, sir," his hazel eyes sparked apologetically. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

Jarod shook his head and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm Erik Travers," he said, offering his slim hand to Jarod. "Your new assistant."

They shook.

"Chief McNamara assigned me to you," he continued. His warm toffee-color skin gleamed in florescent lightening giving the illusion that he was glowing. "He thought you could use some help, you know, settling in. Things here are a lot different than LA."

Jarod nodded. "Of course, I wouldn't expect them to be the same. Glad to have you along, Erik."

The young man seemed relieved. Rumor was that Wayne was a big shot out in California, and usually big shots were agony to work with. But Wayne seemed nice enough.

"Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

Jarod looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. "Actually, yes. The office needs to be put in order- I'm looking for the files on the serial killer case."

"Certainly, sir. I'll get on it straight away."

As the young man scurried off, Jarod pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. There was someone he needed to check in with.

* * *

_Squeak, squeak._

Mr. Parker glanced up from his work. A brief look of displeasure flitted across his aging features when he saw Raines enter his office. Without a sound, he watched as Raines took his time making himself comfortable in one of the two chairs opposite the large desk. The meticulous situating of the oxygen tank was done only to goad him. It did- but his expression remained a stoic mask.

Finally, Raines made eye contact with his associate and acknowledged him. It was evident that the doctor was not there for social reasons.

"Who put Lyle on the Seventh Project case?" he rasped.

Mr. Parker arched an eyebrow and his frown deepened.

"I did."

Raines sat back. He locked his frigid glare onto Parker.

"I want him off the Project Retrieval."

"Why?"

Mr. Parker was now extremely suspicious. There was no sound reason he could surmise why Lyle should be removed from the case. Despite his son's unpredictability and instability, he was the best man for the job. Besides, Raines had no authority in this situation.

He returned the doctor's hard stare.

"I have my reasons," Raines replied. "He's to be taken off the Retrieval immediately and to be back in the Centre tomorrow morning."

"The Triumvirate issued the recall on the Seventh Member," Mr. Parker told him, keeping his tone even. "They were not opposed to Lyle's involvement. I see no reason to remove him."

Raines snarled. "You'll do as I say."

This was the breaking point for Parker- he was not about to be intimidated by this fool. He jumped from his seat in anger.

"You're in no position to give me orders!"

Raines stared him down. With slow, deliberate moves, he rose from his seat and approached the desk. Leaning over the tabletop until he was nose to nose with Parker, he hissed vehemently,

"It will be much better for the boy if you remove him. If I have to do it..."

The threat was left unspoken. Raines jerked away from the other man.

Parker sank back into his chair only after the doctor had left. He stared at the black phone for several minutes before finally reaching for the it.

It would be best to inform Lyle of this conversation right away, of course. He needed to know the possible danger he was in. The sound of the dial tone stung the air around the earpiece. Just before his finger touched the "dial" button to warn his son, another thought came to him. Slowly, he replaced the handset on its stand.

* * *

"_**He's sinking faster than a drowning man. He'll grab a hold of anyone he can... Gun in his pocket and a heart of ham, he's dying faster than a rabid dog- infect us all ..."**_

_They were after him again. At first, it had been easy to out run them, but he couldn't run forever. _

_His side ached and his breath came in painful, uneven spurts. He couldn't go on much longer. _

_Why? Why wouldn't they leave him alone? He just wanted it all to stop..._

"_**Now he's losing blood... Nose for trouble and a soul of rock...**_

_**There's not much flesh- just skin and bone, cheeks sunk deep, eyes popping wide..."**_

_So end it, they snarled. It's simple...Just give into the darkness...It can all be over..._

_But he was even more terrified of the darkness...because they were skulking there...bidding their time...waiting to devour him..._

_He was alone in his terror...no one to rescue him or come to his aid. His family betrayed him...his friends abandoned him..._

_He was alone in his nightmare..._

"_**Don't put out a hand to help him- this drowning man will bite it right off..."**_

* * *

Rain began to fall from the black clouds in the heavens. It was a silent rain, steady in tempo, frigid in temperature. 

Two figures ran through the back alleys hounded by three more. They darted in and out of the nooks and crannies of forgotten passages, desperate to escape their pursuers. But the Shadows stayed always on their heels.

For a moment, it seemed they had managed to loose the phantoms. He fell against a wall and slide part way down it. There was a pain in his side so tremendous that it forced his breath in and out in gasping spurts. His head spun with a bizarre sensation, as though the world around him had suddenly liquefied. He sank to his knees.

She had felt him weaken long before they stopped running. He had been leading the way, pulling her along, making sure they stayed at least one step ahead, but gradually he had fallen back. They had pressed on, but the journey was too much for him.

She knelt in front of him, watching him assiduously. There was something wrong- he had not collapsed from being out of shape or anything of that nature, but from something much worse. He seemed to be in such agony. He held his head between his hands as though his head would fall apart if he did not. He rocked back and forth like a child in fear, his back slapping the hard brick wall behind him with each rock. His mouth twisted in anguish- she could hear his teeth grinding together.

She wanted to help him, to touch him, but she was afraid. Her gazed darted fearfully about, looking for the Shadows- they were being too still.

_Please, please, be all right..._

"Lyle?"

Through the fog that engulfed his mind, he heard someone calling his name from very far away.

"Lyle?"

Whoever was calling sounded worried.

_No one ever worries about me..._

"Lyle! Please answer me! Are you okay?"

He stirred slightly, trying to move, but it only aggravated the throbbing in his head. He groaned aloud, it was too much...He reached out.

Mia...his hand found hers resting on his knee. His grip tightened around her palm.

At least he was responding, sort of.

Rain still showered down on them. His hand was so cold. She wrapped her free hand around his and pressed her hands together, trying to generate some warmth for him. Her effort wasn't quite enough. She tried sitting close to him, but nothing seemed to help- she was as chilled as he. They were as good as dead were they sat, but if the Shadows were with them, they were not showing themselves.

He tilted to the side slightly, falling against her. His head drooped on her shoulder. Mia sighed and watched as her breath dissipated in chill. She stared up at the drizzle falling from the sky and wondered how her life had managed to take such an anomalous turn. No answers came. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of the droplets running over her face.

He shuddered. Mia turned her head. His eyes were still tightly shut, but his breathing was coming out in sobs rather than gasps. She wondered who he really was, where he came from, if he had family. She also speculated as to why he picked her out of the millions in the City. But most of all she wondered how he got that look in his eyes- that hollow, haunted look. She had seen such a ghastly stare many times before...in mirrors...

After several minutes, he calmed significantly. He let out a weary, ragged breath, and relaxed. Seconds faded away and he opened his eyes. Reality awoke him fully and he pulled himself back into a sitting position.

Humiliation flooded his cheeks as he apprehended what had occurred and saw that Mia was staring at him.

There was nothing he could utter to explain his previous actions. He was angry, furious, fighting mad...but at himself for allowing her to see him in such a state of weakness.

He shifted uncomfortably under her inquisitive gaze. He debated his options and at the same time was morbidly curious as to why he no longer sensed the danger they had been in earlier. Agitation welled within him- he wanted her stop looking at him like some lost kitten. The urge to grab her and drag her down the alley was nearly irresistible. He squirmed, then saw what she was so interested in...

His hand- his thumbless hand. In his fevered condition, he'd put his hand in full view and somehow managed to loose his glove in the process.

He cursed his stupidity.

"Accident..." he murmured lamely, slipping his hand away from her.

She did not pester him with questions as he anticipated. She lightly pressed her hand against his as he pulled back, her palm passing over the place where his thumb once was. She did not seem bothered by it.

"What are they, Lyle?" she asked, a plaintive bleat in her voice.

For a moment, he was lost, unsure of what she was asking. He was still confused by her gesture...her kindness. It was not something he was used to receiving. Then...

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. He tried to rise, but his dress shoes had no traction and caused him to slip on the slick ground.

Instantly, Mia was on her feet and offering him a hand up.

He stared at her as though she had pulled a gun on him. Cautiously, with a suspicious eye on her, he accepted her aid.

"They seem familiar," he continued slowly, brushing his coat. The soaked coat was useless to him now- it only weighed heavy on him. He unbuttoned it and slid out of it. He discarded it to the ground as he walked off, motioning for her to follow.

"It's not safe here," he said.

Mia started after him, but her gaze lingered on the crumpled coat. It was still good and it could be dried. And it would be warm when winter came and there was no heat in the apartments...

Swiftly, she retrieved the jacket and scurried after Lyle before he noticed she was missing.


	7. Scary Monsters and Super Creeps II

**Chapter 6: Scary Monsters and Super Creeps- Part 2**

"_**She asked for my love and I gave her a dangerous mind... Now she's stupid in the street and she can't socialize... Well, I love the little girl and I'll love her till the day she dies... Scary monsters, super creeps... Keep me running, running scared..."**_

* * *

He was just getting back from a meeting and hoping to catch up on some paperwork, when he heard the phone ringing.

With a somnolent sigh, he trudged over to his desk, barely making it to his chair before collapsing.

The phone shrilly demanded to be dealt with.

"Hello?" He cradled the phone between his cheek and shoulder while rummaging through a file. A smile broke over his tired and worn features.

"Jarod...it's been awhile."

Sydney put down the case to better focus in on his call.

"I know," Jarod replied with a hint of a smile in his voice. "How are you, Sydney?"

"Tired," was the reluctant admission. "Otherwise, fine. And you?"

There was a pause and the doctor could almost see his friend's nonchalant shrug.

"As well as I've ever been..."

Knowing that Parker would somehow find out about Jarod's call, Sydney knew he should attempt to find out where the Pretender might be- if only so he could throw her a bone.

"Any luck finding your family?"

The next pause was much longer. Sydney winced, knowing he had hit upon a sensitive subject.

"That's been put on hold for the time being."

So Jarod _was _on a pretend.

"For what reason?" Sydney gently pressed.

The smile returned to the younger man's voice. "Wouldn't Miss Parker like to know?"

The corners of Sydney mouth turned up. "I'm sure she would." He added as an after thought. "You're not going to tell me are you, Jarod?"

This garnered a chuckle from Jarod. "You're catching on."

"So...what is the purpose of your call?"

"Just wanted to see how things were going in the Underworld."

Sydney had to smile at the reference to the Centre. For Jarod, and many of them, it _was_ the Underworld.

"Actually," Sydney had debated whether or not to tell Jarod about the Seventh Member Project. He thought that the Pretender might be willing to check into it. "Mr. Parker has assigned Lyle to a rather peculiar case."

"Oh?" He knew he had captured Jarod's attention now.

"Yes, it would appear that the Triumvirate has lost something called the Seventh Member and Mr. Parker assigned Lyle to bring her back."

"Her?"

"Yes. Her name is Amelia."

"What is the Seventh Member? Another Pretender?"

"It does look that way. Apparently, no one has ever heard about it." Sydney paused, carefully planning the statement of his request. "Jarod, do you think you could possible look into this matter? Even Broots can't find any trace of the Seventh Member Project."

"You want me to help you?" Jarod sounded skeptical to say the least- it sounded like a trap to him.

"You could say that," Sydney replied cautiously.

"And Parker?"

"At the moment she's out for blood- Lyle's."

"And where is the resident boogeyman, anyway?"

"New York City."

The doctor didn't hear his former charge suck in a sharp breath.

"I'll see what I can do," he said shortly, and before Sydney could say anything further, Jarod terminated the connection.

* * *

It was in the wee hours of the morning before Lyle and Mia were able to rest. Though they had no more encounters with the Shadows, Lyle thought it was best to get off the streets. Deeming it unsafe and unwise to revisit the apartment on York Avenue, he returned, instead, to his suite in the Melrose Hotel on East 63rd Street.

It didn't come as much of a surprise to Mia that Lyle was staying in one of the Tower Suites, some of the most exclusive accommodations in the City. The suite was six hundred square feet of the finest furnishings she had ever seen. She had never been in such a splendid place before, at least as far as she could remember. She caught a glimpse of herself in a hall mirror and shied away from her grimy image that reminded her of Cinderella after the clock struck midnight.

He was halfway across the sitting room before he noticed that she wasn't with him. Annoyed at having to retrace his steps, he grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her into the lounge. His action turned out rougher than he intended- she cringed from his hold on her. He would not have been so violent had she not been staring at herself in the mirror in that odd way. It disturbed him greatly, though he wasn't quite sure why.

He _was_ sorry that he had hurt her, but it was not in his nature to apologize so he said nothing.

"Get out of those wet clothes," he barked, turning his back on her. "You'll catch cold."

"And into what?" she retorted. A hand went to her hip and she gave him an exasperated look.

_Was that an attitude she just gave me?_

He looked back over his shoulder. Instead of being angry, he was rather delighted to see some fire in her.

"Good point," he conceded briefly. He disappeared into a closet and returned briefly with a posh, snowy spa robe.

"It's all yours," he said throwing it at her. "Until we can get you something else."

Mia retrieved the robe. As she did, Lyle saw that she had his disposed coat.

"What on earth did you bring _that _for?" he demanded scornfully.

She gave him a sharp look. "What do you care? You didn't want it."

He arched an eyebrow and she looked away as her bravado faltered. She didn't see him smirk appreciatively and nod his approval.

"Get out of those clothes," he said again.

She didn't move.

"Well?!"

She just looked at him.

Lyle frowned, angered by her defiance, then it dawned on him why she wasn't complying.

"Oh, right," he muttered, walking out of the room. "I'll be in the shower."

Half an hour later, he emerged to find her sitting on the floor entranced by the hundred-plus channels offered on the state-of-the-art entertainment system. He tapped her shoulder but she didn't respond. He had to stand in front of her to get her attention.

She stared up at him with those haunted eyes wide and her mouth slightly opened.

"Shower's free."

Without a word, she left the room.

He sank into sofa with fatigued groan. He still wasn't feeling right and it concerned him. However, there were more pressing matters to attend.

He had already decided that he was not going to hand Mia over to the Centre until he knew what was so special about her. And what those things were that chased them- Lyle was positive that they were a Centre creation. But what were they for?

He reached for his attaché case setting beside the sofa and pulled into his lap. It was expensive, of course, only the finest Italian leather would do for him. After setting the lock to the proper code, the briefcase docilely popped open. Inside was a laptop computer that he didn't even bother removing. He began a search for anything on the Seventh Member Project- a slow, tedious, frustrating task.

_If only Broots would do this for me..._

Abruptly, he pushed the thought away, knowing that such a thing would never happen. The Centre's resident tech wizard had pledged his allegiance to his sister. And no one loyal to _her _would ever assist him in anything.

Grumbling to himself and hating his sister even more, Lyle sunk into the couch and glared at the computer screen. He wondered what it would be like to have someone that devoted to him. His thoughts drifted to Mia, but he doubted her faithfulness would last long. And his mood darkened considerably. 

When Mia returned to the room wrapped tightly in the cozy housecoat she saw him reclining at the glass top desk in the far corner of the room. He was so relaxed in the oversized leather desk chair that he appeared to be on the verge of sliding out of it. Very slowly, he swiveled the seat from side to side with his gaze transfixed on the open briefcase on the desktop.

She moved over to the couch quietly as not to disturb him, still watching him keenly. One hand covered the frown on his mouth, though his furrowed brow told of his dissatisfaction. Once again, she observed, his left hand was concealed in his pocket.

One side of the collar of his white buttoned down shirt was flipped up. She rose suddenly and walked over to him. It wasn't until he felt a hand on his neck that he became aware of her presence. He looked up at her. The perturbed expression on her face mirrored his own.

"What to we do now?" she asked in that soft, timid voice. She withdrew her hand from him and buried it deep in the folds of the robe.

Lyle sighed. He had no clue, but he wouldn't allow her to know that.

"Get some sleep," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

A few hours later, when the clock struck 4 am and he closed his briefcase. His head pounded in protest as he stood. He needed sleep. However, the one thing he had failed to do was organize the sleeping arrangements.

Swearing under his breath, he staggered through the living room and as he passed by the couch, he glimpsed Mia's sleeping form. He stopped and watched the steady rise and fall of her shoulders as she slept. She was beautiful... 

He smirked sinisterly and leaned over her...

* * *

"_**I'm alone... Sitting with my empty glass... My four walls follow me through my past... I was on a Paris train...I emerged in London rain...**_

"You wanted to see me, Daddy?" 

She was not happy and it showed. She had seriously considered making herself unavailable to him and only him. She was not above a little payback.

Miss Parker was still smarting over not being allowed to speak to her father, held at bay by those abhorrent creatures in the black coats, while watching everyone else come and go into his office at liberty.

Now he wanted an audience with her. 

"Have a seat, Angel," he smiled, gesturing to a chair close to the desk.

She chose to stand.

Mr. Parker sighed. "Have it your way, Angel." His eyes closed briefly- he seemed pained. "I just had a rather disturbing conversation with Mr. Raines."

"Oh?" Parker lifted an eyebrow. "And what did the old wheeze-bag have to say?"

"I really wish you'd sit down."

She crossed her arms over her stomach.

_**And you were waiting there swimming through apologies...**_

"Look, Angel, I know you're upset with me," he turned pleading eyes to her. "I know you don't like that Lyle was assigned to the Retrieval, but I did what I thought was best. For you... This was just too dangerous- I couldn't risk my little girl." His voice caught on the words. "I do that enough already."

For an instant she almost caved- he looked so sad- nearly went to comfort him. But he spoke again too swiftly.

"I asked you here to discuss your brother," he informed her. "In regards to Raines."

She bit back a growl and rolled her eyes skyward.

_Of course he wanted to discuss Lyle. It's always about Lyle!_

"What." The word was steeled in ice.

He sighed, and to her he appeared weary, but under the surface he was beginning to get agitated. "Raines wants Lyle off the Retrieval," he explained after some time.

"So take him off," she snapped, though she couldn't have cared less what Raines wanted.

"That would seem to be the solution," Mr. Parker paused, knowing he had to phrase his words carefully. "But I believe there is more to it. I don't trust Raines."

She could barely contain herself.

_Any idiot would know better than to trust Raines! _she fumed internally. _No one needs to tell ME that!_

"And," Mr. Parker continued, unaware of her reaction, "I am concerned about Lyle. I'm afraid that Raines has plans for him that are not...beneficial to the family. It's important we Parkers stick together..."

_Here we go again!_ Parker ground her teeth together in exasperation.

"Nothing can break the family up!" he was in full throttle speech mode now. "After all, Lyle is the one who will eventually take over the Centre."

She shook her head in disbelief at his egotism. It was though he was oblivious to the fact that his son would have no qualms overthrowing the family to make it to the top. Parker nearly laughed aloud at the absurdity of her father's sudden devotion to her brother and concern for him.

_What a farce this is!_

"We must protect your brother," Mr. Parker rose and walked over to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders to make sure he had her undivided attention. "But," he gave her a meaningful look, "we must also protect you, Angel."

Parker's face remain unchanged from the stony hostility she walked in with.

"That's why I feel mow would be a good time for you take a bit of a vacation."

_**I remember searching for the perfect words. I was hoping you might change your mind... Minutes passed with shallow words- years have passed and still the hurt... I can see you now smiling as I pulled away...**_

Parker's mouth fell open and her impassive resolution dissolved. She looked as though he had slapped her. 

"What?!" she finally yelped. "Daddy, you can't be serious!"

He dropped his hands away from her and clasped them behind his back.

"Now, Angel," a hard tone settled in his voice. He returned to his desk, "There's no discussing this. I have Sam prepping for your departure as we speak."

"**No!**" The word exploded from her- she had had enough.

Mr. Parker stared at her.

"No," she repeated, her voice low and threatening. "You're not going to send me away-not now. I want to know what's going on. I want to know why those gorillas in the trench coats are here. I want to know what Lyle's really doing. I am _not _going anywhere!"

He was about to give a rebuttal when a frown began to form on his visage.

"What gorillas in trench coats?"

Parker straightened up, pressing her lips into a tight thin line. She was not about to be dissuaded from the subject. However, the strange look her father gave her stopped her tirade from continuing.

"The goons in the black trench coats. They blocked me from seeing you earlier." Parker studied the older man carefully. His surprise appeared real.

"What did they look like?" he pressed worriedly, leaning forward on his desk.

_Could he really not be aware of this?_

Parker explained them as Broots had described them to her, but she left out the boogeymen part.

Mr. Parker said nothing further- not about the "boogeymen" and not a word more to her. 

_**I remember a feeling coming over me... **_

It was though she were no longer there. She stood there a moment longer before finally leaving the office. 

Outside, she leaned against the wall, trying to absorb what just occurred. 

One thing was certain- she wasn't going anywhere.

_**I'm alone... Sitting with my broken glass... My four walls follow me through my past...I was on a Paris train- I emerged in London rain... And you were waiting there swimming through apologies – sorry..."**_


	8. Burning the Ground

**Chapter 7: Burning the Ground**

"_**No- no- notorious!**_

_**I can't read about it, burns the skin from your eyes… I'll do fine without it- here's one you don't compromise...Lies come hard to disguise- let me to fight it out, not wild about it…Lay your seedy judgments, who says they're part of our lives?**_

She awoke with a sudden, heart-stopping start. She wasn't sure what caused her to wake so violently, but something did and it was causing her stomach to churn.

A lone shaft of light stole into the room from a crack in the blinds. Mia blinked.

While attempting to calm her rapidly thumping heart, she scanned the room. Panic seized her again- she was in the bedroom sitting on the expansive bed with no recollection as to how she got there. Her last memory was of falling asleep on the couch in the sitting room.

She wanted to move, to run- but fear had paralyzed her limbs, trapping her on the bed. Her greatest fear was that she had suffered another blackout- though it must have been a brief one, unlike the typical ones she normally suffered. Such knowledge did little to ease her frazzled nerves.

Her mind, desperate to comprehend the reason for missing time, reeled in the quest for an explanation.

_Lyle._ The name floated through her discombobulated thoughts… _Lyle…_

_**Lyle!**_

A sudden thought occurred to her and panicked her all the more. Fearfully, she turned and looked at the other side of the king bed.

It was smooth and untouched.

She let out the breath she had been holding with a moan of relief. She collapsed against the headboard.

However, curiosity as to what had become of her mysterious companion…it would not surprise her at all to find that he, like most people, had left her.

Much to her delight, she discovered him asleep on the couch in the sitting room with his body dangling at a peculiar angle. He was scrunched up at one end of the sofa with his arms tightly entwined over his stomach and his head suspended off of the cushion in an excruciating position.

He awoke abruptly to find that all the furniture in the suite had been inverted.

_What the-!_

He looked up to discover that he was nose to nose with the carpet. His eyes re-closed and a groan of puzzlement and pain escaped his lips.

_Can't believe I spent the night on the couch!_

He hauled himself into an upright position.

_I should have left her where she was!_

Rubbing his temples, he mumbled in aggravated tones. He was _not _a morning person.

A gentle breathing made him opens his eyes again. He now found himself nose-to-nose with Mia. Instinctively, he pulled away from her and stood up hastily.

He hated how she stared at him those eyes!

"Are you all right?"

He turned towards her, a hand still plastered to his forehead.

"Do I look all right?" he snapped in growl. The stricken look on her face was more than he could stand.

"Go get dressed!" he command, coldly turning his back on her.

"But I don't have anything to wear," she informed him dolefully.

"Closet," he retorted, keeping his back to her. With a flick of his wrist, he indicated to the bedroom. "Go."

_**You own the money, you control the witness…**_

She was, truly, a sensitive child and it upset her terribly that she had angered him. She wanted to set things right, but felt it prudent to obey him. Besides, she wanted to please him, to gain his approval as there was something wonderful and terrifying about him, all at the same time.

The once empty closet was now held several articles of very fine clothing- the type of clothing that she would stare at for hours in the windows of Barneys. Timidly, she reached out a finger and let it trail down the length of a black, Italian cashmere, zip jacket. A pair of expensive "skinny" jeans- the kind models wore- lay folded neatly on the bottom shelf with a pair of black leather Prada boots next to them.

If she hadn't put him in such a foul mood, Mia would have immediately protested his wasting money on her. So instead, she dressed in silence, very astonished to find that the clothes fit perfectly. She was so used to wearing ill-fitting clothes, she found that fitted clothing felt a little odd and took some getting used. She was reluctant to admit, even to herself, that she was thrilled with wearing such posh attire and having someone like _him _to buy them for her.

_**I'll leave you lonely - don't monkey with my business…**_

He waited impatiently for her, pacing the floor like a caged animal. He was restless, eager to move on. Several things gnawed at him concerning their current predicament and below those concerns were more, less specific, creatures hissing and clawing at him- suspicions that continually preyed on his mind and nerves.

After an eternity, she took a timid step into the drawing room as though she were in the wrong place or even the wrong time- she looked indelibly lost.

"Turn," he ordered stridently, motioning her to turn around. He looked her over with a critical gaze.

She turned, her eyes fastened on him as she obeyed.

"You'll do," he said curtly.

The disheartened look on her face made him pause. He pressed his lip together firmly.

"Your clothes finally suit your face," he finally managed- it was as close to a sincere compliment as he could get.

Her face lit up as she received his endorsement.

Though it was satisfying to see her brighten, it strangely darkened his own mood.

Breakfast had been set up by the concierge by then. Lyle all but pushed her into a seat opposite his place at the head of the table. In morose silence he watched her eat. He took nothing for himself; his appetite had been replaced by a growing unrest and provocation.

Time ticked by- it was nearly eight o'clock. Minutes drifted into oblivion…

He shifted in his chair, his eyes narrowed, and his fingers wrapped around napkin.

She was taking far too long, though there was hardly enough on her plate to satisfy an infant.

The restlessness grew, flooding his veins, and tensing his muscles…he couldn't take much more…the napkin fell away from his hand in shreds.

**WHAM!!! **His fist slammed into the mahogany table.

Mia jumped at the noise. Rattled, she stared at Lyle who was standing over the table with fierce scowl. His breathing came in short spurts.

"That's enough!" he informed her mercilessly. "Get up."

She stood, wobbling slightly from the abrupt rise. If she had any wisdom she would have been afraid, she would have run- and she might have if it had not been for that peculiar, crazed glint in his eyes.

She knew that look well, but how or why she did not know.

_**You pay the profits to justify the reasons…. I heard your promise but I don't believe it…. That's why I'll do it again….**_

A wave of nausea swathed him and his arm that held him away from the table weakened. It was happening again…he could feel it and it was a surreal thing, that feeling of loosing all semblance of sanity. It was never as rapid or as unpleasant as one might assume, but was it was enormously bizarre to be completely aware of one's psyche unraveling. Once it began, it could not be stopped.

He tried to ward off the inevitable, staggering away from table to look for something stable to hold onto. There was nothing.

From some nether region deep within him, laughter rippled out.

For some reason unbeknownst to her, she knew he was going to fall and was prepared. However, she wasn't ready for the seizures that shook him.

She was afraid- afraid for him and afraid for her. She had idea what to do. He began to gag and, fearing he might choke, she slid him off of her lap, laying him on his right side. The convulsions increased in intensity.

Suddenly, a hand grasped her upper arm with surprising strength considering there was no thumb to aid its grip. He pulled her down to his level, but his eyes would not- or could not- focus on her. She tossed her hair over her shoulder to get it out of the way only to find that his hand had slipped from her arm and his fingers tousled in her tresses.

He grunted something unintelligible. She didn't understand. He tried again, straining until he was exhausted- he knew what he wanted her to do, but his mouth refused to cooperate.

She yelped in trepidation as he attempted to claw his way across the floor.

The paroxysms were too intense for him to continue. He grabbed hold of her once more. It was no small task but, at length, he was able to convey to her that he wanted his briefcase.

She lugged it over and, on his command, tried to open it. It was locked.

By counting out each number on his fingers, he was able to give her the combination so she could unlock the case. He pointed to a pocket in the lid. She slid her hand in and pulled out the only thing that was in it- a slim black velvet case.

Inside the casing were three slender glass syringes, each filled with an inky solution. He clutched her hand and laid it on the back of his neck, pressing her fingertips into the base of his skull- the place where he wanted her to put the injection.

Trembling, she raised the hypodermic needle to the place where he directed her. She fretted over hurting him- the needle was thick and long. Drawing in a deep breath, she plunged it in, cringing as she did.

His face and body contorted in a silent scream. She couldn't see that the injection was helping any…he seemed worse.

After a spell, the seizures subsided into demure twitches, and a few minutes later, they too evaporated.

He was now drained of any energy recouped in sleep. With some help from Mia, he was able to sit up as his world normalized.

She let out a gasp of air, feeling weak herself but greatly pleased that he was all right.

Their sense of relief was short-lived.

There was a clicking at the entrance to the suite as though the lock were being picked. Mia moved closer to Lyle, practically hiding behind him. The handle of the door began to turn.

_Click…click... click…. __**clock**_

The door slowly swung open.

There were four this time- each an identical replica of the other. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they formed a solid wall that blocked the only exit.

_**Fools run rings to break up something they'll never destroy…Grand notorious slam, (BAM!) Don't ask me to bleed about it- I need this blood to survive. That's why I'll do it again…**_

The mounting tension was stifling. Slowly, Lyle rose to his feet, in control once more, and pulled Mia up with him.

"Hello, Mr. Lyle," said one. "You were rather difficult to find, yes."

"But you come with us now," said another.

Their voices were like the buzz of giant bees; there was no distinction in tone, diction, or octave. It was the same voice coming from many different mouths.

He reached for his gun only to find the holster empty. Keeping his gaze steady on the men guarding the door and a grip on Mia, he began backing up until the briefcase was at his feet.

"Get it," he hissed at her.

As she bent to pick it up, one of the Black Coats stepped forward.

"You are not going to run, Mr. Lyle."

"Of course not," he replied in his smoothest timbre. "If you gentlemen will give me a chance to collect my personal belongings, I'll be right along."

"The girl, too?"

"Yes, yes," he snapped irritably. "The girl, too."

He turned his back on their unsolicited escorts. He was met by Mia's angry glare.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded. "We don't know who they are- or at least I don't." Her eyes narrowed.

She was getting more than a little suspicious. First, he was so eager to get away from them, and now he was going to comply with them just like that? Something wasn't adding up. "Maybe you do know these goons. Are you working with them? They certainly seem to know you!"

Lyle's grip on her tightened, cutting off the circulation to her upper arm.

"You listen to me," venom seeped through every word, "I don't know anymore than you do, if you want to get out of here, you'd better shut up and follow my lead."

Mia struggled out of his grip- she didn't like this Jekyll and Hyde persona of his.

With a final threatening glare, he straightened his tie and smoothed out his impossibly wrinkled shirt. Yanking his briefcase away from her, he turned to find one of the Black Coats had taken it upon himself to retrieve another of his designer coats from the closet.

Another man stepped forward as though he were going to take hold of Mia, but Lyle intervened.

"I don't think so," he informed the man icily. "This one's mine."

The Black Coat backed away and Lyle and Mia left the suite flanked by four enormous, conspicuous beasts.

Lyle was far too acquiescent for Mia's taste. She was plagued with a growing since of unease and restlessness. Still, she went along with it, though she was far less agreeable than usual. Lyle noticed this, but could have cared less about her attitude. His agenda was the only thing that concerned him.

They were nearing a black sedan that looked suspiciously like a Centre-issued vehicle. Just a few yards from the car, Lyle stopped abruptly which caused Mia to stumble. He patted his pockets as though looking for something.

"Problem, Mr. Lyle?"

"Actually," Lyle was quite the thespian and truly seemed lost. "I don't have my gun," he admitted sheepishly.

"That is not of consequence," he was notified shortly. "Come. Now."

"Oh, I'm afraid it is a problem, gentlemen," he said. "I mean, seriously, what would housekeeping think if they found a weapon like that on the nightstand. So you see…"

He turned his back on them and began to walk away. Mia remained rooted to the ground and he did not beckon her to follow.

"I cannot allow you to return, Mr. Lyle," the apparent Black Coat head went after him.

He never even looked back.

Within seconds, the man was upon him. Lyle whirled around to meet him. Three muffled blasts shattered the silence of the morning. Apparently, the revolver had not been left behind after all.

The Black Coat teetered unsteadily before finally falling over. This loss rippled to his ilk; they were rendered as useless as he.

Mia needed no command to run this time.

Perhaps Lyle's greatest weakness was his arrogance for he had assumed they now home free. But, they quickly found out that this was not so. From out of nowhere, four more creature of the night materialized in their path.

Lyle had not foreseen this and was momentarily thrown off kilter. It was Mia, surprisingly, who took command of the situation. She was willing to wager that she knew the City better than any of them, especially the back streets and lots. She tugged at Lyle's disfigured hand, indicating for him to follow her.

And the chase was on.

_**Notorious….**_

* * *

Sydney and Broots stood in the driveway behind the Centre near a black sedan. Broots shifted nervously from one foot to the other. He was more than a little concerned about why Mr. Parker was sending his boss away and down right afraid about what might next occur.

Next to him, Sydney was calm with his usual dignified demeanor, but underneath the placid exterior, he was just as concerned as Broots. He felt Broots stiffen besides him and looked up.

Mr. Parker was walking out to the car with, presumably, Miss Parker, though the woman was so bundled up with scarves and a giant pair of sunglasses that it was difficult to tell. Sydney raised an eyebrow in curiosity. It was very unlike Parker to be so covered. Sam, Parker's sweeper, walked on the other side of her. His face was an impassive mask, but as he passed Broots and Sydney, his eyes danced merrily and he gave them a quick wink.

A smile tugged at the corner of the psychologist's mouth- Parker was up to something and Sam was in on it.

Mr. Parker, oblivious to anyone but himself, kissed his daughter after speaking briefly to her, and sent her off with Sam. If something shady was afoot, it eluded him.

Broots returned with Sydney to the doctor's office, wondering what they would do without Parker there to issue commands.

"It's going to be weird without her, Syd," the technician said. "I mean, where do you think he sent her?"

"_He_ didn't send me anywhere."

Broots whipped around, his jaw nearly hitting the floor when he saw a smug Miss Parker standing in the doorway. Sydney simply smiled- very little surprised him anymore.

"However, where exactly he sent Lyle's little secretary is not my concern." She grinned devilishly knowing full well how mad her brother was going to be when he found out.

"Very clever," Sydney commented.

"I thought so," she said with a flip of her hair. Her mood turned serious. "Speaking of baby brother, I think it's about time we paid him a little visit."

Broots gulped and looked at Sydney.

"We?"

* * *

Jarod had been living in Grayson's office for the last several hours, trying to make some headway in the serial killings. So far, it was not looking good.

He hunched over the desk with a pencil clinched between his teeth, surrounded by stacks of papers. Laid out before him was a mess of notes, photographs, and reports. He grunted in frustration.

A steaming cup of coffee suddenly appeared before him.

Jarod glance up to see Erik Travers standing in front of the desk, clutching yet another oversized file.

He smiled his gratitude to the young man.

"How's it coming? Anything yet?" Travers gave his boss an apologetic look as he added his file to the growing mound.

The Pretender sighed heavily.

"There are so many leads," he said shaking his head. "Nothing has been organized or followed-up. Everything

is in such a mess- it's hard to make any sense of it."

Travers frowned. "It's as though someone wasn't taking the case seriously."

Jarod nodded- he'd had the same thought. "Or someone didn't want it to be taken seriously."

"Need me to do anything, sir?"

Jarod looked up at his assistant again. Travers was an eager and diligent worker- the Pretender had no doubt the young man would go far in his profession.

"Can you get a hold of Sussex for me?"

"Sussex, sir?"

"Forensics."

"I'm on it!" he smiled enthusiastically and hurried out of the office.

Jarod returned to the file in his hand. His gaze locked onto a business card that was clipped to the top of the documents. It simply read:

_Dr. Viktor Puccini_

Frustrating as it was to have nothing to go on, he was making satisfactory progress on another case. A small, square white envelope laid on his desk. He picked it up, slipped a petite card of paper in it, and sealed it with a secretive smile.

* * *

"_**But the shadows are on your side as soon as the lights go down…**_

There was no way to tell exactly how it happened.

They managed to remain together until the very end. They dodged, misled, and outwitted the Black Coats with ease. With his smarts and savvy and her knowledge of the City, it was child's play to avoid them.

But something went extraordinarily wrong.

One rogue Black Coat diverged from the uniformity that his cohorts used in pursuing them. He opted for the rooftops instead of the ground.

_**In the darkest place you can hide…**_

They weren't anticipating that. Needless to say, they were caught terribly off-guard when he swooped down on them from above. How he survived a twenty-seven-story freefall was inexplicable, but it caused enough of distraction that they took a wrong turn.

They found themselves alone- separated from each other.

She found herself regretting the harsh accusations she had made against him and desperate to find him again. He was cursing his futility over losing his trophy and ticket to the top of Centre hierarchy.

They were each trapped against a brick wall, faced with the creatures bearing down on them, so close yet so far from one another.

_**You belong to the hands of the night…"**_

* * *

"Miss Parker, Sydney," Broots glanced from one to the. "This just arrived."

Miss Parker eyed the white envelope in his hand. "From our 'lil monkey, I presume."

"I dunno," he shrugged. "It's addressed to Sydney."

"Oh?" She looked a bit put out as the doctor took the note.

A plain, unlined note card was inside. A short note was inscribed on it:

_Here's what you asked for:_

Below the writing was a basic drawing of a heptagon; that was all there was to Jarod's clue.

"What's this all about?" Parker barked. "Been conspiring with the loose end again, Syd?"

Sydney handed her the card. "I thought he might be able to find something out about the Seventh Member Project. It appears he has."

"So what's it mean?"

Sydney smiled to himself. Jarod couldn't resist the chance to toy with them.

"I have no idea."


	9. Coming Undone

**Chapter 8: Coming Undone**

_**Day after day they send my friends away to mansions cold and gray… To the far side of town where the thin men stalk the streets while the sane stay underground… **_

_The walls of his prison were gone, melted away into the abyss. It happened every so often, after months of captivity that they suddenly let him free._

_It was a terrifying experience. _

_He lived shackled by fear in his little prison cell- afraid of Them, of afraid of Himself, afraid of the Black __Coats, afraid of the Needle with the Black Ink…_

_But Outside was maddening…_

_**Day after day they tell me I can go… They tell me I can blow to the far side of town where it's pointless to be high cause it's such a long way down… So I tell them that I can fly, I will scream, I will break my arm- I will do me harm…**_

_Nothing was familiar, everything was threatening. It was The Game, nothing more; They set him free to hunt him again. _

_The Hunter was now the Hunted- it was the irony of The Game that they liked so much._

_But the Game had changed; there was another- one like him._

_**I'd rather play here with all the madmen for I'm quite content they're all as sane as me…**_

_Their Games had so broken his mind that he was more tormented by the idea of another like him than he was of forever being alone._

_He much preferred the isolation of his enclosed prison to the madness of the Free World…_

_**Day after day they take some brain away then turn my face around to the far side of town and tell me that it's real then ask me how I feel… **_

_There they were again, lurking in places that never saw light. Why?_

_Why did they do this?_

_**Here I stand, foot in hand, talking to my wall… I'm not quite right at all … Don't set me free, I'm as helpless as can be - gimme some good 'ole lobotomy… **_

_The voices never ceased their nonsensical chatter._

_Between they and the Shadow beings, his mind frayed even more. He was beyond insanity…_

_What __**was**__ beyond insane? _

_What of the Other? Was the Other as crazy as he? _

_He prayed never to find the answers to his questions…_

_**'Cause I'd rather stay here with all the madmen than perish with the Sadmen roaming free… **_

* * *

The front desk was abandoned and she scuttled past it, desperate to escape the run-down motel.

"Hey!" a large voice boomed out of the darkness surrounding the lobby. "Hey, Red!"

She froze.

"You gotta message."

The desk was still empty by the time she finally crept back to it. She the nooks where messages were kept- only one contained a note.

The paper shook between her hands as she read the brief, minimal message:

**Amelia- please call.**

There was no name or number attached to the message. She shoved the note into her pocket as she glanced about the room.

The voice called out as she tried again to leave.

"Hey! You owe me fer two weeks; when you gonna pay?!"

_Two weeks?_

"I…I-" she could find no voice with which to speak.

"Where are you, girl?" the voice demanded. "Who are you?"

_Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?_

Mia had no answers to his questions.

Her eyes caught on the sign announcing the direction of the bathrooms. Silently, she slipped into the darkness.

The manager appeared from the back room just in time to see a figure running into the shadows.

* * *

Things were rapidly falling into place.

That morning Sussex had called to inform him that they'd found DNA evidence on the Judge's body. He also knew without testing that the killer was female. When Jarod asked how he knew, Sussex explained that the

DNA was obtained from a piece of chipped artificial nail- it was more probable that it was a woman who wore the acrylic nails. 

Sussex also said that Jarod could expect lab results within the next twelve hours- he put a rush order on the testing; he was as eager as the Pretender to solve this case.

The results came in eight hours and they confirmed that the killer was, indeed, female.

Jarod smiled to himself and he studied another piece of evidence that Sussex had found: a single strand of long auburn hair. That narrowed the suspect pool down considerably- he doubted that the Centre had too many redheaded assassins in it's Rolodex.

He closed the case file, stood up, and tucked it under his arm. It would only be a matter of time before the identity of the slayer was uncovered.

Of that he was sure.

* * *

The office door crashed open, causing Broots to jump a mile.

Sydney casually looked up from his computer screen.

"You should be more careful, Parker," he chided gently, returning to his work. "You don't want to draw unnecessary attention to yourself. You're not supposed to be here, remember."

"I remember," she barked, glowering at everything. "Get your things together. We're leaving."

The doctor raised an eyebrow at her.

"Did you get a lead on Jarod?"

"Forget Jarod," she snapped, leaning on one arm against his desk. "It's Lyle I want."

"Why Lyle?"

"Because." It was the only explanation that she would give them.

It was later that Broots knocked on Miss Parker's office door to ask her where exactly they were going- he needed to know how to dress.

No one answered his timid tapping. Either she was ignoring him or she had left a lamp on- there was light spilling out from under the door.

He entered the office uncertainly.

"M-m-miss Parker?"

She was sitting in the corner with an odd rectangular object on her lap. Her face was obscured by shadow- she looked treacherous and lethal. His eyes caught the gleam of something metallic- he prayed it wasn't her gun.

"What do you want, Broots?" There was no biting sarcams in her tone- her voice was devoid of emotion.

He would have preferred her angry.

"I-I-I just came, um, wanted, uh…." His cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Are you okay?"

No answer.

He inched nearer, afraid to get too close. He peered at the object in her lap- it was a cage.

"Miss Parker?"

There was silence, then:

"He killed her," she didn't move as she spoke. "For no reason, he killed her."

Broots wasn't sure what she was talking about though he deduced that the "he" was Mr. Lyle.

"Killed what?" he ventured finally.

"My rabbit," she spat viciously. "I found her in my car this morning."

"Oh." Broots was certainly sorry about the loss of her pet, though he wasn't clear on why she was taking it so hard. "Well, maybe you can get another one."

"No, I can't."

"Wh-? Oh!" It was then that Broots realized the importance of the rabbit- that rabbit. It had been a Christmas gift from Jarod. "Oh, gee. I'm really sorry, Miss Parker."

"So am I, Broots." She rose and walked into the light. She normal now- her old self once more. "And he's gonna be…when I get through with him."

_**She said, "Revenge can be so sweet…I like to take it when I can…I need to play with the ones I hate… I like to see them suffer…**_

The trouble that had been brewing between the Parker twins was about to erupt. There was just one thing that bothered Broots. How did Lyle kill the rabbit and put it Miss Parker's car this morning if he was still in New York? Of course, he could have come back already, but… 

_**It has to be dangerous, it has to be refined, it has to be skillful…You need to take your time…**_

"Come on, Broots," she waved him to the door with the cage still in hand. "We've got a rat to catch in New York." 

"We're going after Mr. Lyle?"

"You betcha," she replied. "And this time there'll be no coming back from the dead."

It wasn't that he thought Mr. Lyle didn't deserved what was coming to him. On the contrary, the sociopath deserved much more; Broots just thought it was a bit extreme to kill someone over a dead pet. He was no psychologist, but he suspected a much deeper cause of Miss Parker's rage- the rabbit was just the excuse she needed to justify her actions.

_**She said, "I take care of my resources. You never know when you might need them…I'm fast and I'm strong- my reflexes are good…It doesn't take long to achieve my deserved revenge…"**_

* * *

She inched her way along the dark hallway towards a green door. The door creaked in protested at being pushed on its rusty hinges. The new corridor was just at dim as the last. She stumbled and nearly fell as she closed the door.

She felt her way along the wall until she reached another door. She slipped in the new portal and found herself faced with two options: Men and Women.

She quickly raced into the women's restroom, barely making it into a stall before she collapsed.

* * *

The bell on the front desk rang incessantly. The manager emerged annoyed from the back room. His beady eyes squinted beneath his bushy brows at the dark figures in front of the counter. There were two of them.

"Where is Amelia Micelli?"

The manager eyed the men without truly looking at them.

"Whaddya want her fer?" he snapped. "You a friend of –" He finally looked directly at them and realized how creepy they really were.

In a flash, a white hand wrapped itself around the manager's throat, leaving him gasping for air. He was violently shoved against a wall with his feet dangling above the floor.

"Where is she?"

He gagged trying to speak. The hand loosened its grip.

"She left," he wheezed. "Five minutes ago."

He was suddenly released and fell to his knees. The Black Coats abruptly parted to the side.

The manager looked up to see a thin man in a sharp dark suit with a cerulean silk and golden smiling secretively at him. The man whispered something to the first Black Coat, and then returned his intense blue gaze back to the manager.

The Black Coat turned his head toward his twin and nodded.

The second creature stepped up to the desk. Even though the man wore sunglasses, the manager could still feel the penetrating gaze the strange man.

At length the Black Coat spoke, "Mr. Cox would like to have a word with you."

* * *

_**Dark in the city, night is a wire… Steam in the subway, earth is afire…And catch my breathing even closer behind…**_

He was very close. 

There was no physical evince to prove this, but he sensed that he was closing in on her. He just needed to wait for something to spook her out of hiding.

His pace quickened. For an inexplicable reason he found himself in a rundown part of the City- there was no reason for him to be here unless she was here. He knew, somehow he knew she was near.

_**In touch with the ground, I'm on the hunt- I'm after you…Smell like I sound, I'm lost in a crowd And I'm hungry like the wolf…**_

A seedy motel guarded the path in front of him. He paused and studied the building for a long while. There was nothing extraordinary about it. 

He was about to leave when the front door opened. Every nerve in his body tingled. His eyes narrowed at he tried to categorize the sensation.

_Danger…._

Two Black Coats exited the building. There was another man with them.

By the time they reached the place where he had been standing, Lyle was tucked away in the sanctuary of the shadows. He watched them pass by, unaware of his presence. Something made him look twice at the shorter man.

Recognition lit his eyes. Instinctively, his hand enclosed on his empty gun.

_Cox!! What's he doing here? With Them?_

_**Straddle the line, in discord and rhyme I'm on the hunt I'm after you… I'm hungry like the wolf…**_

_Mia. Of course. They're after her. But what business would Cox have with her?_

A thought struck him with the weight of canon.

_What if someone else was brought in to do my job?_

The implications of such an occurrence shook him- the Triumvirate was not happy and if the Triumvirate was not happy…

There could be a headstone somewhere with his name on it.

He shrugged his shoulders as though trying to rid himself of the idea. He fell in step several paces behind the trio of figures. He was determined to find out why Cox had been brought in and perhaps in the process they would lead him to Mia.

_**Stalked in the forest, too close to hide I'll be upon you by the moonlight side… You feel my heart, I'm just a moment behind…**_

He suddenly felt cold as he trailed them. The outside temperature, he observed, was unchanged; he was simply moving away from her… 

_What nonsense is that?_ He ridiculed himself. But the truth was undeniable… He nearly turned back.

Cox and his guards continued on foot- obviously they were not returning to the Centre right away. They headed uptown into a more ritzy area. 

Their destination it turned out was on the thirty-second floor of an office building.

He waited outside of the office they disappeared into- the office of a Dr. Viktor Puccini…a doctor of psychoanalysis. Lyle suppressed a growl; he was not fond of doctors, but had a particularly strong hatred for psychiatrists, psychologist, counselors, whatever the right name was- they were all the same to him.

Several minutes later, the trio came out and exited down the opposite corridor from the one they had entered.

Lyle opted not to follow them. Instead, he stepped into the Doctor's office to see what was so interesting. 

Puccini's office was rather unimpressive- and cluttered. There were mounds of unsorted papers and files, empty food cartons, dirty coffee mugs…with the coffee gelled in them. Slightly obsessive-compulsive in his neatness, the surrounding filth disgusted him. 

If Cox and his goons had rifled through anything, it would have been impossible to tell. Lyle scanned the contents of the paper-crowded desk, reluctant to touch anything. An appointment book lying open on the corner of the table caught his attention.

Circled in red was the note:

_Meeting with Mario Micelli at Gianina's: Wednesday, 6:00pm- 214 York Avenue._

York Avenue? That was the same street that Mia lived on, he recalled. He looked at his watch- it was already ten 'til six.

He sat his briefcase upon the desk, another item those idiots in black coats had not taken from him, and opened it.

After removing Mia's file from it, he rifled through the pages. Some of the information in the address book registered with him. Sure enough, Mia's last name was Micelli, and she had a sister, Maria, a brother, Mario, and, of course, a grandmother, Gianina.

_**Burning the ground I break from the crowd- I'm on the hunt I'm after you… Scent and a sound, I'm lost and I'm found and I'm hungry like the wolf…**_

_Hmmm…_ Though the file had no address for her relatives, he was fairly certain that this was the same family- it was too big of a coincidence not to be.

He frowned.

_She must have been in therapy then, _he thought. _I wonder what repressed memories where uncovered in those sessions? Being followed by men in Black Coats? A creepy old man with an oxygen tank? _He snickered. _Poor girl must have been on the verge of being committed._

His gaze drifted from the folder in his hand to the file cabinet. He tucked Mia's file away in the briefcase.

_I wonder…_

He made sure the office door was locked and propped a chair under the handle, in case anyone with a key should try to enter.

An hour later, he found it- a file for Micelli, Amelia T. With a snake-like smile, he exited the office, ready to resume the hunt for his little doll.

_**Strut on a line, it's discord and rhyme I howl and I whine- I'm after you… I'm hungry like the wolf...**_

* * *

"Her name is Amelia," Sydney watched the hallway for any sign of Miss Parker. "I don't know much more about her, Jarod. Lyle has her file."

There was a pause on the other end of the line; Sydney could hear the rustle of papers as Jarod looked for something.

"Has Broots been able to find anything on her?" he finally queried.

"No, there is no record of any Amelia on file. Miss Parker did not know her last name."

"Maybe she doesn't have one," he pointed out rather sullenly.

He sounded agitated, though the doctor was unsure why.

"Maybe," he conceded. "Jarod, do you think this Amelia is your killer?"

"Mmhmm," he answered through papers held between his lips.

"I do remember Parker saying that the girl was about twenty-two."

"Oh?"

"Parker said from the way her father described Amelia, she seems rather benign." A shadow caught Sydney's eye. He frowned. "Are you sure she's the assassin?"

"Well, now that I know her age, I ninety-five percent positive. She's in New York you said?"

"Yes," the doctor replied distractedly. Parker was on her way back to the hotel suite. "Jarod, I have to go, but I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"Parker's in New York."

"Why?"

"She's after Lyle."

"Not me?" Something in his voice made the psychologist pause- he could have sworn that he heard disappointment in the Pretender's voice. He dismissed the notion- he was mistaken; it must have been relief he heard instead.

"No. You're off the hook for now."

"Are you at the Centre?" His voice was normal again.

"No, Broots and I are with Parker. Jarod, I have to go now. But stay in touch."

"Yeah."

Jarod clicked the phone off and stared out of the window. Amelia, Lyle, Parker, and he were all in the City- what were the odds? He could have figured that out, but his mind was elsewhere.

He needed a DNA match to prove that Amelia was his Centre assassin. If she wasn't, he was back to square one. But if she was…

All he had to do now was find her.

His eyes fell to the phone again. He picked it up and dialed.

It took several rings before someone finally answered.

"What?"

He smiled and settled back into his chair, kicking his feet up onto the top of the desk.

"Hello, Miss Parker."


	10. All of the Madmen

_AN: The last name Micelli is pronounced the Italian way: Mi-CHEL-ly_

* * *

**Chapter 9: All Of The Madmen Are Out Tonight**

_**Day after day they send my friends away to mansions cold and gray… To the far side of town where the thin men stalk the streets while the sane stay underground… **_

_The walls of his prison were gone, melted away into the abyss. It happened every so often, after months of captivity that they suddenly let him free._

_It was a terrifying experience. _

_He lived shackled by fear in his little prison cell- afraid of Them, of afraid of Himself, afraid of the Black __Coats, afraid of the Needle with the Black Ink…_

_But Outside was maddening…_

_**Day after day they tell me I can go… They tell me I can blow to the far side of town where it's pointless to be high cause it's such a long way down… So I tell them that I can fly, I will scream, I will break my arm- I will do me harm…**_

_Nothing was familiar, everything was threatening. It was The Game, nothing more; They set him free to hunt him again. _

_The Hunter was now the Hunted- it was the irony of The Game that they liked so much._

_But the Game had changed; there was another- one like him._

_**I'd rather play here with all the madmen for I'm quite content they're all as sane as me…**_

_Their Games had so broken his mind that he was more tormented by the idea of another like him than he was of forever being alone._

_He much preferred the isolation of his enclosed prison to the madness of the Free World…_

_**Day after day they take some brain away then turn my face around to the far side of town and tell me that it's real then ask me how I feel… **_

_There they were again, lurking in places that never saw light. Why?_

_Why did they do this?_

_**Here I stand, foot in hand, talking to my wall… I'm not quite right at all … Don't set me free, I'm as helpless as can be - gimme some good 'ole lobotomy… **_

_The voices never ceased their nonsensical chatter._

_Between they and the Shadow beings, his mind frayed even more. He was beyond insanity…_

_What __**was**__ beyond insane? _

_What of the Other? Was the Other as crazy as he? _

_He prayed never to find the answers to his questions…_

_**'Cause I'd rather stay here with all the madmen than perish with the Sadmen roaming free… **_

* * *

The front desk was abandoned and she scuttled past it, desperate to escape the run-down motel.

"Hey!" a large voice boomed out of the darkness surrounding the lobby. "Hey, Red!"

She froze.

"You gotta message."

The desk was still empty by the time she finally crept back to it. She the nooks where messages were kept- only one contained a note.

The paper shook between her hands as she read the brief, minimal message:

**Amelia- please call.**

There was no name or number attached to the message. She shoved the note into her pocket as she glanced about the room.

The voice called out as she tried again to leave.

"Hey! You owe me fer two weeks; when you gonna pay?!"

_Two weeks?_

"I…I-" she could find no voice with which to speak.

"Where are you, girl?" the voice demanded. "Who are you?"

_Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?_

Mia had no answers to his questions.

Her eyes caught on the sign announcing the direction of the bathrooms. Silently, she slipped into the darkness.

The manager appeared from the back room just in time to see a figure running into the shadows.

* * *

Things were rapidly falling into place.

That morning Sussex had called to inform him that they'd found DNA evidence on the Judge's body. He also knew without testing that the killer was female. When Jarod asked how he knew, Sussex explained that the

DNA was obtained from a piece of chipped artificial nail- it was more probable that it was a woman who wore the acrylic nails.

Sussex also said that Jarod could expect lab results within the next twelve hours- he put a rush order on the testing; he was as eager as the Pretender to solve this case.

The results came in eight hours and they confirmed that the killer was, indeed, female.

Jarod smiled to himself and he studied another piece of evidence that Sussex had found: a single strand of long auburn hair. That narrowed the suspect pool down considerably- he doubted that the Centre had too many redheaded assassins in it's Rolodex.

He closed the case file, stood up, and tucked it under his arm. It would only be a matter of time before the identity of the slayer was uncovered.

Of that he was sure.

* * *

The office door crashed open, causing Broots to jump a mile.

Sydney casually looked up from his computer screen.

"You should be more careful, Parker," he chided gently, returning to his work. "You don't want to draw unnecessary attention to yourself. You're not supposed to be here, remember."

"I remember," she barked, glowering at everything. "Get your things together. We're leaving."

The doctor raised an eyebrow at her.

"Did you get a lead on Jarod?"

"Forget Jarod," she snapped, leaning on one arm against his desk. "It's Lyle I want."

"Why Lyle?"

"Because." It was the only explanation that she would give them.

It was later that Broots knocked on Miss Parker's office door to ask her where exactly they were going- he needed to know how to dress.

No one answered his timid tapping. Either she was ignoring him or she had left a lamp on- there was light spilling out from under the door.

He entered the office uncertainly.

"M-m-miss Parker?"

She was sitting in the corner with an odd rectangular object on her lap. Her face was obscured by shadow- she looked treacherous and lethal. His eyes caught the gleam of something metallic- he prayed it wasn't her gun.

"What do you want, Broots?" There was no biting sarcams in her tone- her voice was devoid of emotion.

He would have preferred her angry.

"I-I-I just came, um, wanted, uh…." His cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Are you okay?"

No answer.

He inched nearer, afraid to get too close. He peered at the object in her lap- it was a cage.

"Miss Parker?"

There was silence, then:

"He killed her," she didn't move as she spoke. "For no reason, he killed her."

Broots wasn't sure what she was talking about though he deduced that the "he" was Mr. Lyle.

"Killed what?" he ventured finally.

"My rabbit," she spat viciously. "I found her in my car this morning."

"Oh." Broots was certainly sorry about the loss of her pet, though he wasn't clear on why she was taking it so hard. "Well, maybe you can get another one."

"No, I can't."

"Wh-? Oh!" It was then that Broots realized the importance of the rabbit- that rabbit. It had been a Christmas gift from Jarod. "Oh, gee. I'm really sorry, Miss Parker."

"So am I, Broots." She rose and walked into the light. She normal now- her old self once more. "And he's gonna be…when I get through with him."

_**She said, "Revenge can be so sweet…I like to take it when I can…I need to play with the ones I hate… I like to see them suffer…**_

The trouble that had been brewing between the Parker twins was about to erupt. There was just one thing that bothered Broots. How did Lyle kill the rabbit and put it Miss Parker's car this morning if he was still in New York? Of course, he could have come back already, but…

_**It has to be dangerous, it has to be refined, it has to be skillful…You need to take your time…**_

"Come on, Broots," she waved him to the door with the cage still in hand. "We've got a rat to catch in New York."

"We're going after Mr. Lyle?"

"You betcha," she replied. "And this time there'll be no coming back from the dead."

It wasn't that he thought Mr. Lyle didn't deserved what was coming to him. On the contrary, the sociopath deserved much more; Broots just thought it was a bit extreme to kill someone over a dead pet. He was no psychologist, but he suspected a much deeper cause of Miss Parker's rage- the rabbit was just the excuse she needed to justify her actions.

_**She said, "I take care of my resources. You never know when you might need them…I'm fast and I'm strong- my reflexes are good…It doesn't take long to achieve my deserved revenge…"**_

* * *

She inched her way along the dark hallway towards a green door. The door creaked in protested at being pushed on its rusty hinges. The new corridor was just at dim as the last. She stumbled and nearly fell as she closed the door.

She felt her way along the wall until she reached another door. She slipped in the new portal and found herself faced with two options: Men and Women.

She quickly raced into the women's restroom, barely making it into a stall before she collapsed.

* * *

The bell on the front desk rang incessantly. The manager emerged annoyed from the back room. His beady eyes squinted beneath his bushy brows at the dark figures in front of the counter. There were two of them.

"Where is Amelia Micelli?"

The manager eyed the men without truly looking at them.

"Whaddya want her fer?" he snapped. "You a friend of –" He finally looked directly at them and realized how creepy they really were.

In a flash, a white hand wrapped itself around the manager's throat, leaving him gasping for air. He was violently shoved against a wall with his feet dangling above the floor.

"Where is she?"

He gagged trying to speak. The hand loosened its grip.

"She left," he wheezed. "Five minutes ago."

He was suddenly released and fell to his knees. The Black Coats abruptly parted to the side.

The manager looked up to see a thin man in a sharp dark suit with a cerulean silk and golden smiling secretively at him. The man whispered something to the first Black Coat, and then returned his intense blue gaze back to the manager.

The Black Coat turned his head toward his twin and nodded.

The second creature stepped up to the desk. Even though the man wore sunglasses, the manager could still feel the penetrating gaze the strange man.

At length the Black Coat spoke, "Mr. Cox would like to have a word with you."

* * *

_**Dark in the city, night is a wire… Steam in the subway, earth is afire…And catch my breathing even closer behind…**_

He was very close.

There was no physical evince to prove this, but he sensed that he was closing in on her. He just needed to wait for something to spook her out of hiding.

His pace quickened. For an inexplicable reason he found himself in a rundown part of the City- there was no reason for him to be here unless she was here. He knew, somehow he knew she was near.

_**In touch with the ground, I'm on the hunt- I'm after you…Smell like I sound, I'm lost in a crowd And I'm hungry like the wolf…**_

A seedy motel guarded the path in front of him. He paused and studied the building for a long while. There was nothing extraordinary about it.

He was about to leave when the front door opened. Every nerve in his body tingled. His eyes narrowed at he tried to categorize the sensation.

_Danger…._

Two Black Coats exited the building. There was another man with them.

By the time they reached the place where he had been standing, Lyle was tucked away in the sanctuary of the shadows. He watched them pass by, unaware of his presence. Something made him look twice at the shorter man.

Recognition lit his eyes. Instinctively, his hand enclosed on his empty gun.

_Cox!! What's he doing here? With Them?_

_**Straddle the line, in discord and rhyme I'm on the hunt I'm after you… I'm hungry like the wolf…**_

_Mia. Of course. They're after her. But what business would Cox have with her?_

A thought struck him with the weight of canon.

_What if someone else was brought in to do my job?_

The implications of such an occurrence shook him- the Triumvirate was not happy and if the Triumvirate was not happy…

There could be a headstone somewhere with his name on it.

He shrugged his shoulders as though trying to rid himself of the idea. He fell in step several paces behind the trio of figures. He was determined to find out why Cox had been brought in and perhaps in the process they would lead him to Mia.

_**Stalked in the forest, too close to hide I'll be upon you by the moonlight side… You feel my heart, I'm just a moment behind…**_

He suddenly felt cold as he trailed them. The outside temperature, he observed, was unchanged; he was simply moving away from her…

_What nonsense is that?_ He ridiculed himself. But the truth was undeniable… He nearly turned back.

Cox and his guards continued on foot- obviously they were not returning to the Centre right away. They headed uptown into a more ritzy area.

Their destination it turned out was on the thirty-second floor of an office building.

He waited outside of the office they disappeared into- the office of a Dr. Viktor Puccini…a doctor of psychoanalysis. Lyle suppressed a growl; he was not fond of doctors, but had a particularly strong hatred for psychiatrists, psychologist, counselors, whatever the right name was- they were all the same to him.

Several minutes later, the trio came out and exited down the opposite corridor from the one they had entered.

Lyle opted not to follow them. Instead, he stepped into the Doctor's office to see what was so interesting.

Puccini's office was rather unimpressive- and cluttered. There were mounds of unsorted papers and files, empty food cartons, dirty coffee mugs…with the coffee gelled in them. Slightly obsessive-compulsive in his neatness, the surrounding filth disgusted him.

If Cox and his goons had rifled through anything, it would have been impossible to tell. Lyle scanned the contents of the paper-crowded desk, reluctant to touch anything. An appointment book lying open on the corner of the table caught his attention.

Circled in red was the note:

_Meeting with Mario Micelli at Gianina's: Wednesday, 6:00pm- 214 York Avenue._

York Avenue? That was the same street that Mia lived on, he recalled. He looked at his watch- it was already ten 'til six.

He sat his briefcase upon the desk, another item those idiots in black coats had not taken from him, and opened it.

After removing Mia's file from it, he rifled through the pages. Some of the information in the address book registered with him. Sure enough, Mia's last name was Micelli, and she had a sister, Maria, a brother, Mario, and, of course, a grandmother, Gianina.

_**Burning the ground I break from the crowd- I'm on the hunt I'm after you… Scent and a sound, I'm lost and I'm found and I'm hungry like the wolf…**_

_Hmmm…_ Though the file had no address for her relatives, he was fairly certain that this was the same family- it was too big of a coincidence not to be.

He frowned.

_She must have been in therapy then, _he thought. _I wonder what repressed memories where uncovered in those sessions? Being followed by men in Black Coats? A creepy old man with an oxygen tank? _He snickered. _Poor girl must have been on the verge of being committed._

His gaze drifted from the folder in his hand to the file cabinet. He tucked Mia's file away in the briefcase.

_I wonder…_

He made sure the office door was locked and propped a chair under the handle, in case anyone with a key should try to enter.

An hour later, he found it- a file for Micelli, Amelia T. With a snake-like smile, he exited the office, ready to resume the hunt for his little doll.

_**Strut on a line, it's discord and rhyme I howl and I whine- I'm after you… I'm hungry like the wolf...**_

* * *

"Her name is Amelia," Sydney watched the hallway for any sign of Miss Parker. "I don't know much more about her, Jarod. Lyle has her file."

There was a pause on the other end of the line; Sydney could hear the rustle of papers as Jarod looked for something.

"Has Broots been able to find anything on her?" he finally queried.

"No, there is no record of any Amelia on file. Miss Parker did not know her last name."

"Maybe she doesn't have one," he pointed out rather sullenly.

He sounded agitated, though the doctor was unsure why.

"Maybe," he conceded. "Jarod, do you think this Amelia is your killer?"

"Mmhmm," he answered through papers held between his lips.

"I do remember Parker saying that the girl was about twenty-two."

"Oh?"

"Parker said from the way her father described Amelia, she seems rather benign." A shadow caught Sydney's eye. He frowned. "Are you sure she's the assassin?"

"Well, now that I know her age, I ninety-five percent positive. She's in New York you said?"

"Yes," the doctor replied distractedly. Parker was on her way back to the hotel suite. "Jarod, I have to go, but I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"Parker's in New York."

"Why?"

"She's after Lyle."

"Not me?" Something in his voice made the psychologist pause- he could have sworn that he heard disappointment in the Pretender's voice. He dismissed the notion- he was mistaken; it must have been relief he heard instead.

"No. You're off the hook for now."

"Are you at the Centre?" His voice was normal again.

"No, Broots and I are with Parker. Jarod, I have to go now. But stay in touch."

"Yeah."

Jarod clicked the phone off and stared out of the window. Amelia, Lyle, Parker, and he were all in the City- what were the odds? He could have figured that out, but his mind was elsewhere.

He needed a DNA match to prove that Amelia was his Centre assassin. If she wasn't, he was back to square one. But if she was…

All he had to do now was find her.

His eyes fell to the phone again. He picked it up and dialed.

It took several rings before someone finally answered.

"What?"

He smiled and settled back into his chair, kicking his feet up onto the top of the desk.

"Hello, Miss Parker."


	11. Dying to Survive

**Chapter 10: Dying To Survive**

"_**They always said that the living would envy the dead… **_

_**So now you're gonna shoot bullets of fire… Don't wanna fight but sometimes you've got to… You're some soul survivor… There's just one thing you've got to know- you've got ten more thousand miles to go …**_

_**Walk tall, cool, collected and savage... It's every man for himself, every woman, every child... A new breed, ferocious and wild...**_

_**Because you're one of the living and if we can't stick together… One of the living- Who's gonna make it tonight?"**_

* * *

_Death stalked the streets, a silent apparition with knife in hand, searching for its next casualty. Meticulous in Its appearance, Death was a thing of beauty, an evil overlooked. None recognized the malevolent, until that which they admired overtook them. _

_Death was not one to randomly take whomever happened by. There was one, and only one, to be taken at a time. Never two or three. Only One. And only one track did Death's mind have- programmed to target a certain individual._

_From whence Its orders came, Death did not know. And Death did not care. _

_He sat in his chamber, chatting away, as his demise stared him sweetly in the eyes. He was quite arrogant in his belief that he was so attractive to such a pretty young thing, and he continued his prattle, blissful in his ignorance._

_The Night welcomed them with open arms as Death walked him home. He wanted to stop for a nightcap, but Death did not drink. He insisted, Death refused. He became angry, Death became agitated. He got violent. Death overcame him._

_The street corner was a far more public stage that normal, but there were no witnesses; there never were. _

_Seven down, seven yet to go…_

_Death watched the fight seep from him, smiled, and walked on._

* * *

His children were both away as were their associates. There was no one to lurk in the shadows and enlighten his offspring to their father's betrayal.

What they didn't know would hurt one of them.

"Yes," Mr. Parker stared at the space in front of him, unseeing and unbelieving. "Yes, I understand."

Silence filled the luxurious office. Finally, he spoke again.

"No, he has not yet found her."

The voice on the other end of the line snickered. "Is that what he told you?"

Mr. Parker gritted his teeth and forced a civil tone- he hated to be mocked. "No, he has not checked in yet."

"Doesn't that bother you, Mr. Parker?" the voice was distorted as though the person was speaking through a device that scrambled sound waves. "Mr. Lyle's reputation does not boast of great integrity."

"It was made clear to him what was expected of him… and the consequences of failing."

"Perhaps you were not clear enough, Mr. Parker," the voice was sharp and biting. "It appears that your son has taken a personal interest in the Project. Of this we do not approve."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mr. Parker snapped, trying to control his temper.

"Of course, you don't," the voice replied condescendingly. "It seems that you do not know much about your children or their activities- Centre-related or otherwise."

"Oh," he could no longer hide his contempt and agitation, "I suppose _you _do."

"Yes, Mr. Parker," the voice smiled, "_we _do. We _know_ that Mr. Lyle is becoming too attached to the Seventh Member. We _know_ that Miss Parker is in New York and _not _Japan. We _know_ you are wearing a blue blazer and pinstripe shirt. We _know_ everything that is going on."

"I'll take care of the situation," he ground out. Their knowledge was disturbing, but he was most surprised by the news of his daughter's deception; he expect as much from Lyle, but not Parker. He had her loyalty- she was his "Angel" after all.

"Yes, you will, Mr. Parker," the voice continued. "We will see to it that you do."

There was a pause.

"One more thing, Mr. Parker," there was a sinister edge to voice, "We want to remind you that curiosity killed the cat… If you do not wish it to kill your children as well, we suggest you put an end to their inquisitiveness. Immediately."

The phone clicked and the call was over.

Mr. Parker looked up and into the pale gaze of Mr. Raines. He clicked off the speaker on the phone.

"I've never trusted Miss Parker," Raines finally said. "She has always asked too many questions."

Mr. Parker glowered at him, but said nothing. 

"And I tried to tell you about Lyle's indiscretions… Once this is over, the Centre will have no further use for him. It is time we looked into a replacement."

"This isn't over yet," Mr. Parker hissed. He sat back in his chair, pressing the tips of his fingers together in pyramid. "My children are not going anywhere."

He returned Raines' frigid glare. "You forget that they are both Red Files… You cannot do anything against them without the Tower's backing."

Raines stood and straightened his jacket. A vicious smirk slithered over his features.

"Are you positive they are _both_ Red Files?"

* * *

The sound of running water filled the room. Water splashed over the edge of the stained sink.

She stared at her image in the spotted mirror, watching the droplets trickle over her features and purposely avoiding looking into her own eyes.

The noise of the water began to grate on her nerves and with a impulsive brutal motion, she slammed the valve the off.

Shaking slightly, she dried her face on the cuff of her jacket. A chilling breeze rustled her damp hair. She looked around for an open window, but found nothing but a small ventilation grill on the wall high above the sink.

She backed into the opposing wall and eyed the grill. By her calculations she could fit into the shaft. She had to climb onto the sink in order to reach it. It took some doing to open the grill and shimmy her way through the ducts.

The outside world came fast. She pulled herself out of the shaft and looked around. The empty streets were illuminated by the full moon. A feeling of foreboding clung to her and she felt ill at ease being alone on these streets. She turned back to the building, faced with two doors to choose from; she had no idea which one to go through.

She chose the door on the right and stepped into total darkness. The realization that she had chosen wrong was instant. But it was too late- a click echoed around her. She frantically jiggled the knob, but it was locked…from the outside with no escape from the inside.

* * *

"What do you want, Jarod?"

The Pretender couldn't conceal the grin in his voice.

"You sound distracted, Miss Parker," he smirked. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

"You're always interrupting something," she growled. "What's this about?"

"How's Mr. Lyle doing these days?" he asked, blatantly ignoring her questions.

"I'll make sure to ask him before I kill him," she sneered. "Is there a point to this call or are you just wasting my time?"

"Aw, Miss Parker, you don't sound happy to hear from me? Haven't you missed me?"

She didn't answer right away. Her irritation with him was rising to insurmountable levels. Yet she couldn't quite bring herself to answer his questions- not honestly anyway.

"I'm hanging up," she told him and pulled the phone away from her ear.

"I know where Lyle is," he said quickly, realizing that he had taken the teasing a bit too far.

She eyed the phone warily before answering. "Tell me."

"Well," he sounded sheepish. "Actually, I don't know exactly where he is, but he is in the City."

Jarod cringed internally, catching his mistake but it was too late to recant. The scathing tone in which Parker answered him confirmed that his attempt to keep her on the line was as lame as he thought it was.

"Gee, do you think maybe that's why I'm here, genius?"

"Okay," he said, regaining his confidence. "I did call for a reason- I think we can help each other."

"Yeah, right," she snapped. "Listen, Jarod, I've had it with you. I don-"

"Would you hear me out," he cut in forcefully. "I'll help you find Lyle, if you help me find the Seventh Member."

She was caught off guard by his offer- she wasn't expecting the Centre's new pet Project to be brought up.

"I'm listening."

"Good. Has Sydney told you about Project Heptagon's dying members?"

"What?" Parker turned around and glared at the older man sitting at the desk in sitting room of the suite. Her eyes narrowed. "No, he hasn't."

"There's been a series of murders in the City over the last seven weeks," Jarod said as he quickly brought her up to speed on his discoveries. He was careful to leave out any details of his current pretend.

"So the Centre's not only breeding geniuses but also assassins?" she frowned. "How charming."

There was pause that grew between the former friends.

Finally, Parker spoke, "Lyle's supposed to bring this Amelia in. I would assume that if you find Lyle, you'd find her. Birds of a feather, you know."

"Yes," he said slowly. "I'll be in touch."

"Jarod, don't you hang up on…" But he was gone.

She hated to be the one left dangling on the line.

* * *

Lyle waltzed out of Puccini's office as though he had just finished a session rather than pilfering confidential files on the doctor's patients. Several people in the hall glanced curiously at him when he passed by.

"Sir!" a voice rang out from behind him. "Sir…"

Lyle halted abruptly and turned around, obviously annoyed.

A slightly paunchy bespectacled young man jogged up to him. He stopped short of where Lyle stood and pulled himself up to his full height- an inch taller than the other man. Still huffing and puffing, he tried to feign the air of authority and intimidation.

Lyle arched an eyebrow at him.

"Sir, did you just come from Dr. Puccini's office?"

He tilted his head a degree to the side. "Perhaps…"

"Sir, Dr. Puccini is not seeing anyone today…"

"What are you," he derided, "his secretary?"

"I-" the young man flushed profusely. He stumbled over his tongue, before finally taking a deep breath and starting over. "Sir, what where you doing in the doctor's office?"

Lyle gave him a patronizing smile. "That's none of your concern, son. Go back to your cubicle."

The young man watched the man walked away, his ego mortally wounded, but then he saw something. Tucked under the strange man's arm was one of Puccini's files. He knew this because he was, indeed, the doctor's secretary. Quickly, the young man rushed in front of the stranger, blocking his exit.

They were standing in front of a vacant information terminal. The young man glanced at something behind the desk.

"Sir, you do not have permission to remove any files from Dr. Puccini's office."

Lyle was immensely amused by this wretched little man's attempt to bully him. He gave the man a sinister smirk.

"Permission?" he scoffed. "I don't need permission."

The gleam of gold caught Lyle's eye and his gaze was drawn to the thick gold band that encircled the man's middle right ringer. It wasn't solid gold- Lyle was quite familiar with the real stuff- this was just gold-plated.

Still… 

An idea began to form…

"Nice ring," he commented, not taking his eyes off of the jewelry.

The young man was temporarily thrown into to confusion. His hand unconsciously drifted to it and nervous twisted the ring.

"Sir, I don't know who you are but I am calling the police."

Lyle looked up sharply.

"How much do you want for it?"

"What?" the man gaped at him, befuddled by the fascination over a cheap ring with no significance. "It's not for sale," he coughed out. Dread filled him as he stared transfixed by the hypnotic gaze of the snake before him.

"Everything has a price."

He was frozen in place by fear. Mustering every ounce of courage the young man reached over the counter and grabbed the phone, brushing the emergency button with his fist.

That was his first mistake.

A hand gripped his wrist with the strength of a bear. He turned slightly and stared up in fear at Lyle, who seemed enormous in his fury.

His second mistake was fighting for the ring.

* * *

She edged her way through the darkness, feeling her way along the concrete walls of the tunnel system she was trapped in. Somewhere water trickled down into the depths. She glanced continuously over her shoulder, afraid of what might lurking in the shadows…waiting…

She stopped momentarily. Something heavy kept swinging into her hip. Her hands felt for the source and found it in the pocket of the suit coat. Her fingers wrapped around the cold solid object and pulled it out.

It was difficult to see anything in the dark, but she held it close to her face and, by running her fingertips over it, was able to tell that it was a handgun. 

She inhaled sharply. Heavy in her hand, the gun appeared to her to be a snake, lethal and ready to kill. She swallowed hard, her hands trembling for she had never held a gun before.

A strange sensation charged through her veins like electricity through wire. She felt oddly disassociated from herself. Her hands, as though operating independently from the rest of her, turned the gun over, opened the chamber, and felt the number of rounds. There were six.

Her hands closed the chamber while the fingers of her right hand gripped the handle. Her index finger slipped over the trigger. The other hand unlocked the safety. The gun was returned to the pocket, primed and read to go. That was all well and good since her mind had no idea what to do with the weapon.

"There you are."

She jumped and spun around.

Figure moved from within the shadows. It was a Black Coat. He stared at her.

Mia looked around frantically to see if there were any others. He appeared alone. She began to back down the corridor, never taking her gaze from the man.

"You are lost, correct?" He slowly advanced her.

Her back hit a wall. There was nowhere else to run. Her attention was caught by the evil glint of the dagger in his hand.

"Come," his voice never wavered in pitch or tone. "Do not make this difficult."

With a fluid and silent movement, the gun rose from the pocket and leveled itself at the Black Coat.

It did not, however, faze him and he continued to advance.

"You will not shoot." His thin lips twitched as his mouth tried to form a smile but couldn't quite make it.

The sight of the gun made her tremble or perhaps it was the knowledge that she was the one controlling it and at the same time something controlled her. Her finger tightened around the trigger.

The gun unexpectedly discharged.

She started, unsettled by the noise, but she could not pull away from him.

A rip appeared in the fabric over his shoulder where the bullet had penetrated, she could see now that her

eyed were adjusted to the lightless world. He continued to move forward. 

The gun fired again. The ammunition tore into his chest. He moved closer still.

_What the-???_

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and prayed for a swift death.

It has been said that just before a person dies, they see their life speed before them in flashes. The only thing Mia saw was the image of a finely dressed, handsome man with haunting eyes that were so much like her own.

The final shot resounded with a thunderous crash, and then was dead silence.

Mia opened one eye and found the man standing less than three feet away. She opened both eyes. There was a deep crimson flood pouring from the wound in his head- the last bullet had nailed him between the eyes.

She heard a strangled scream. It took several seconds for her to realize that the screech had come from her own burning throat.

The Black Coat stood motionless before her for an eternity. Then the creature wobbled and fell over- the threat eliminated.

She wasted no time in running for her life.

* * *

The sound of approaching footsteps roared in the silence. Two Italian-leather clad feet appeared next to the body of the fallen Black Coat.

Lyle stared at the body with indifference. He had the heard the gunshots in the sublevel of the office building and follow the strange extensive passage way of tunnels to this spot.

It had surprised him to find that it was not the Black Coat that had fired the shots. He had been unaware that Mia knew how to use a gun.

He stood there a few moments longer, studying the area around him. From his jacket pocket he remove a penlight and flashed the light over points of interests: the three bloodied wounds, the size four sneaker prints leading away from the body.

He stepped over the slain creature and hurriedly followed the footprints.

* * *

He was a detective again.

Jarod stepped through the doors of the DT-UT and surveyed the store full of customers lounging around. Courtesy of Parker, Jarod had the full name of the Seventh Member and a place to begin his search.

A brunette with a bright smile greeted him at the cash register ready with her "Welcome to the DT-UT" spiel.

"I'm Detective Wayne," he said cordially, flashing his badge.

The girl giggled nervously. "You're first name isn't Bruce is it?"

She sobered quickly and blushed crimson. "I'm sorry, " she said contritely. "I was just… I-…I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Jarod smiled reassuringly. "I caught the Batman reference. Clever."

She smiled sheepishly. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, actually, you can. Do you know where I can find Amelia Micelli?"

The girl frowned and shrugged. "Mia? No, I don't."

"She works here right?"

"She did. Until three days ago. No warning or nothing. She just took off."

"What can you tell me about her?"

The girl thought for a moment before answering. "Mia and I were friends- she's real sweet. We hit it off 'cause she was so nice to me. As you can see," she gestured to herself. "I'm not the prettiest girl in the world. She wasn't mean to me like the others."

Jarod nodded. "Don't sell yourself short," he replied, bring a smile to the girl's face. "You know her well then?"

"Yeah, I guess. Mia was a little bit of a loner, didn't let anyone get too close. I can understand that, you know with her father in prison and her mom in the nuthouse."

Jarod arched an eyebrow. "What's her father in for?"

The girl gave him a funny look and pulled away slightly. "You mean you're not here about her dad?"

"No," he said slowly, wondering what caused the change in the girl's demeanor.

"He's in prison for murder," she stated flatly. Her eyed narrowed and tone became defensive. "Look, I don't why you want Mia, but she's a good person who's never hurt anyone. Just 'cause her dad's a loser, doesn't mean she is."

"Of course," he acknowledged. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise. Do you have an address for her? I just want to talk to her about a few things."

The girl grudgingly scribbled something onto a napkin and shoved it at him.

"Won't do you any good," she called as he walked away. "I went over there yesterday to check on her and her apartment's got new tenants."

_New tenants so quickly_? Jarod wondered why she was trying to protect Mia.

"Really?" he paused at the door.

The girl came around the counter as not to shout across the café.

Jarod noticed the nervous way she glanced around before whispering conspiratorially, "I really don't know why she left her job and place all of the sudden. It's not like her to just up and leave- she's too responsible for that. But maybe it's that new guy she's with."

Jarod turned fully and gave her his rapt attention. He a sneaking suspicion as to who that man might be.

"What can you tell me about the man?"

"Nothing. Mia never introduced me to him so I have no idea what his name is, how they met, how long they've been together. I saw them a few nights ago at Bagel Bob's after our shift ended. I tried to say to hi to her, but she was too caught up in this guy, and I couldn't stay- I had a kid brother I had to get home to."

Jarod glanced up and then pulled her to the side, away from the door.

"What's your name, hon?" he asked.

"Kaylee," she replied.

"Kaylee, can you tell me what this guy looked like?"

"Yeah. He was hot," she smiled slightly. "But a lot older than Mia- thirties at least, maybe even late thirties. Really blue eyes." she paused, covering her mouth with her hand. "His hair was either a real dark blond or a light brown. And he was tall. I think, I mean, everyone's tall compared to Mia." She shrugged. "That's about it. Well, I mean the only other thing that stood out were his clothes. Real expensive stuff, you know. I thought it was weird he was in a little joint like Bagel Bobs, you know. People like that don't visit there."

Jarod nodded, certain that it was Lyle that Mia had been with.

"Are you sure that they were dating?"

Kaylee's brows knit together in confusion. "Yeah, they had to be. It's the only way Mia would let a guy near her… Ya know, she doesn't trust hardly anybody, especially guys. She wouldn't hang out with someone she had just met on the street."

_Parker was right about birds of a feather,_ he mused. _They certainly do flock together, though Amelia hardly sounds like the sociopath type…._

"Well, Kaylee," he smiled kindly, "you've been a great deal of help. I appreciate it."

He was about to turn away when a small hand stopped him. He turned back and found himself staring into the fearful watery brown eyes of Amelia's concerned friend.

"If you find her, sir, tell her to call me."

Jarod nodded and gave the hand on his arm a compassionate squeeze.

"I'll find her. I promise."

* * *

_**You hold the answers, deep within your own mind… Consciously you've forgotten it- that's the way **_

_**the human mind works…**_

There were no words to aptly describe the terror that Mia was experiencing. Without memories, she had not even inkling as to why these strange men were after her or what she might have done to provoke them. There nothing within her head but blank space with the image of man she knew only as Lyle. And that did not provide much comfort.

She ran and ran through the twisting labyrinth of tunnels with no idea where she was going or where she might end up. She simply ran out of fear of what might happen if she stopped.

_**Whenever something is too unpleasant, too shameful for us to entertain, we reject it; we erase it from our memories… But the answer is always there.**_

He had lost the footprints long ago, but something pushed him on. He jogged through the tunnel system with nothing but instinct to rely on. She was close, but he felt like there were a million miles between them. 

Rage boiled within him, fury propelled him on. He was irate with himself, infuriated that he could not get her out of his mind. Intuitively, he knew that they were somehow connected; a connection that was not merely the Centre, though it may have been Centre-induced.

He cursed silently- he didn't even know that meant.

The rage churned as it sought a way out becoming more violent the longer he allowed his thoughts to dwell on the Centre.

"_**The pain that grips you, the fear that binds you, releases life in me… In our mutual shame we idolize to blind them from the truth that finds a way from who we are…**_

She heard footsteps breaking through the silence. Her heart hammered so fast that she was certain it would explode. Perhaps it would be for the best if it did. At least then the nightmare would be over. 

She was so tired. Tired from lack of sleep, tired from not eating, tired of running. She was so very weary of running.

Her foot caught on something she could not see and she went flying to the floor, landing on a rusty metal grate. A blinding pain shot up her right side. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

It was over.

A crash resounded in the darkness.

He stopped and looked around. He was surrounded not by concrete walls, but by metal structures that resembled an elaborate duct system. Above him was a grate.

"Mia?"

She froze and her heart nearly stopped at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Lyle?" she ventured timidly.

"Yeah, I'm here."

He was answered by a muffled sob.

"Are you all right?" He couldn't see anyway to reach her.

"No!"

_**When the darkness fades away the dawn will break the silence screaming in our hearts… I try to fight the truth… my final time.**_

"Mia," he called again. "Can you see any way to open the grate?" 

She tried to pull herself upright, fighting the pain that nearly paralyzed her.

"No," she reported weakly. "Even if there was it's probably rusted shut anyway."

"Stay there. I'm going to try to find a way up to you."

When she could no longer hear his voice, she panicked.

"Lyle!"

He came running back.

"What is it?"

"Don't leave me."

The agony in her voice was enough to move even the hardest of hearts. He moistened his lips and sighed.

"I'm not leaving you, I'm trying to get to you. Hang on."

It seemed like a lifetime passed before she heard his voice again.

"Mia," he sounded a long way off. "Come here."

She stood, forcing herself to resist the waves of nausea that swept over her.

"Where are you?"

"Just follow my voice."

_**The life that flows inside of you, burns inside of me... Tell me you will live through this…**_

_**For I know I cannot bear it all alone...**_

He was standing behind wide, flat panels of metal that reminded her of prison bars. She could not figure out what the formation was for.

"I can't get through," he said. "But I think you can."

Mia looked at the structures. There were two sets she'd have to get through- the one she was behind and the one trapping him.

Her head and shoulders slipped through easily enough, but she got caught at the hips. The panels evidently narrowed as they got closer to the base.

"I can't do it," she wailed.

"Yes, you can," he told her firmly. "Yes, you can."

She pulled back to the side she began on, shaking her head and clutching her right side.

He growled in frustration then looked up and locked eyes with her.

For a moment neither moved, as they found themselves staring into gazes that were identical to their own.

Neither was convinced that they weren't looking into a mirror. 

_Click, clack, click… _Footsteps echoed in the underground.

"Come on," Lyle commanded, wedging himself through the panels as far as he could. He extended his right hand to her.

The footsteps grew closer and forced her into action.

She tried again to get through, latching onto his hand immediately. But she just couldn't get through.

"Try to climb up a ways," he told her. "High enough to get to the wider area."

She tried to do as he suggested, but it was an impossible feat since she stubbornly refused to let go of his hand.

_**Can't fight it all away, can't hope it all away… Can't scream it all away…**_

"Let go," he demanded. 

"No," she cried, wincing in pain. "Please no."

"Mia." His arm was going numb and he couldn't hold onto her much longer. "Mia, listen to me. We have to get out of here."

"No!" She gripped his hand tighter.

"Look at me."

She obeyed.

"I'll find you again… I swear I will," he grimaced trying to find a more comfortable position.

"Don't leave me!"

There was something wrong with him. His survival was at stake and yet he could not bring himself to abandon her. There was something very wrong, indeed.

"Mia, they're almost here. Go now! Get above ground. I will find you."

"No, Lyle," she beseeched. "I can't do this without you. You don't understand…"

"Mia, I'm not going to tell you again. GO!"

And he let go of her.

_**But the answer is always there… Nothing is ever really forgotten."**_


	12. As The World Falls Down

**Chapter 11: As The World Falls Down**

**_You take a frog's eye and give it to a man… Pleased with your cyborg proudly you stand… _**

Within the bowels of the newly restored sub-level, the sub-level beneath the known sub-levels, dark figures filed into a massive, cold, cement-walled room.

Silently, a strange–looking man slipped in with the Black Coats and took a seat in front of the growing congregation. He was deathly pale like the others, but his distinguishing features were his colorless eyes and snow-white hair.

Each creature uniformly and tidily marched to his appropriate row and settle into his seat without so much as a word or a glance at the others with him. But one grew restless…****

**_This glorious madness… Makes you believe you're all powerful… _**

"What is going to be done?" The rebel demanded suddenly. "This situation is dangerous, correct?"

A deafening screech cut off the bulk of his tirade as enormous steel doors at the head of the room struggled to open after years of unuse. By the time the noise subsided, the dissenter was in a frenzy. He convulsed and spasmed like one possessed and frothed at the mouth.

A grunt of disapproval rippled through the assembled mass. Those around him drew back as though he was contagious. One brave Black Coat pushed through to the insurgent and removed an ebony-filled syringe from his overcoat. With a swift and practiced gesture, he plunged the needle into the base of the troubled one's skull and injected the fluid. At length, the seizures passed, his body calmed, and he returned to his normal state of harmony with the others.

Another commotion drew attention away from the first. Another Black Coat forced his way to the front to shout his concerns.

"What about the Injecting?!" he shrieked at them. "It is my responsibility to arrange this for all members! We must resolve this issue immediately. All members must be returned to the fold!"

The albino man rose slowly from his seat and faced the disrupter.****

**_This inhumane robot becomes a heathen god… Will be idolized and takes all control… _**

The Black Coat stuttered and choked through the rest of his inane speech, finally silenced under Mr. White's lethal glare. He twitched with the beginnings of the spasms that had just rocked his comrade moments before. He started to say more, stopped, and eventually sat down.

"This has gone too far!" pronounced the Black Coat who had given the injection. The syringe was still clutched in his hand. "Tell Dr. Raines- he'll know what to do!"

"No!" protested another, rising to his feet. "Tell him nothing! Not until we know more!"

"What is going on here!!!!"

**_Spreads over the planet and infects us all… With this evil act the main race will be and too late resisted by you or by me… _**

The raspy voice rang out from the front of the room.

Silence and fear fell over the assembled. They knew their murmurings had been heard and they were afraid. The last Black Coat to have spoken out of line hunkered down in his seat as though trying to melt into it.

The grand doors were now fully opened and completely silhouetted in its frame was the ghastly figure of Mr. Raines- Dr. Raines to them. With cart creaking, he took center stage upon an elevated floor. Like them, he was dressed in a black suit.

He eyed the crowd with an artic glare. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Who will go first?" he demanded, scanning the congregation for a volunteer. "Let's get on with this!"

Mr. White stepped forward to address him.

"We have serious problem," he said flatly. "The girl and Mr. Lyle continue to evade us."

"I am aware of that," Mr. Raines informed him, greatly disappointed in the man's report.

"There is more…"

"Yes?"

"Mr. Lyle is growing suspicious. You know he is not one to be trusted- his loyalty lies where it suits him best… If he should guess the nature of the Project, it could be disastrous… he is still not controllable."

"And the girl?"

"The girl, yes, she is still easily controlled. However, she is in Mr. Lyle's custody. We fear they may discover their association with one another. If that occurs, we will loose them both."

"This can't be allowed to happen," Raines muttered. "What else?"

A peculiar smile oozed over Mr. White's visage. "As you well know, Miss Parker is in the City."

Raines nodded with interest.

"We have reason to suspect that the Pretender is also there and that Miss Parker is aware of it. We also have reason to believe that she is not pursuing him…"

Raines said nothing for a long moment. When he looked up again a malevolent, triumphant grin darkened his features.

"Do go on…"

**_Cloned Insanity… _**

* * *

A shadow darted passed the base of a convoluted staircase.

She came to a screeching halt as she ran into another dead-end. Leaning over, she rested her hands on her knees, trembling hard as she tried to catch her breath.

She was out of the underworld that had abruptly ended in an abandoned building. There had been no Black Coats since her escape, but also no Lyle. She didn't know if she should stay put and wait for him or if she should keep moving.

The walls around her loomed high above, reaching forever sky it seemed. The roof had caved in long ago and now revealed the glory of the heavens.

She had to rest, there was no way round it. But numbly, she began to move again. Absently, she fumbled through the pockets of both her jacket and jeans. Her fingertips grazed the revolver and swiftly withdrew.

The reality that she had shot and most likely killed a man rattled her to her core. Her mind wrestled with the facts, unable to comprehend and desperate to conceal the memory.

Memories…

A few had surfaced… about Lyle… about those men following them. Mia recalled the black-cloaked creatures had trailed her before and that Lyle had come to her rescue previously as well.

She sighed and removed a handful of newspaper clippings from her jeans. Her brow furrowed as she sorted through the collection. A tattered photograph escaped the bunch and drifted to the ground. She reached for it and caught it before it landed in a puddle.

The photograph was of a young man and woman in one of those cheesy department store photo studio poses. The woman was on the pudgy side, but no doubt a beauty with a toothy smile, bright gray eyes, cinnamon hair, and a light complexion. The man had a distinctly Italian look. His thick black hair was gelled and spiky and he had a strapping build. His eyes were the same gray as the girl's- almost colorless in the center and rimmed in charcoal.

She turned the picture over and found an inscription scrawled on the back in sharp, tight penmanship:

**Love you, sis! **

**Your sibs, -Mario and Maria **

She turned her attention to the newspaper articles and a chill ran through her. Every clipping was about the same topic- murder.

The headlines lashed out at her:

Manhunt for City Slayer Continues! City Slayer Strikes Again- Seventh Murder in Seven Weeks! New Detective Says City Slayer Female! City Slayer on the Run!

An old woman peered out of the window of her home at the stranger on her doorstep. She cracked the door, not bothering to take off the chain lock, and eyed him suspiciously.

"Che cosa?" She waited impatiently for him to answer.

The man wiped his forehead with a white handkerchief and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses back up his nose. He was terribly jittery after hearing of his secretary's murder. He shivered involuntarily.

"My name is Viktor Puccini," he said, unsure of what the woman had said to him. "I am here to see a Mario Micelli."

The woman stared warily at the nervous little man who kept swiping at his brow.

"Chi è al portello, Nonna?"

The voice of a young man caused the woman to shut the door completely.

"È un medico, Mario." Puccini could still hear the woman as she spoke to the boy.

A tall, well-built young man in his mid-twenties reopened the door.

"Are you Mario?" Puccini asked.

The young man's gray eyes flashed.

"Whaddya want?"

"I'm here about your sister," he paused at the stony look on Mario's face. The doctor faltered, then remember that the youth had two sisters. "About Amelia."

Mario flinched. "You know where she is?"

"Not exactly. May I come in?"

Grudgingly, he moved aside and allowed the other man to enter. While the doctor wiped the soles of his shoes on the door mat, Mario turned to his grandmother and spoke to her in Italian.

The old woman's eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together over her chest.

"Il mio Mia? Il mio prezioso, Mia caro?" Tears welled up in her eyes.

Mario gently took her arm, speaking to her in soothing tones as he led her to another room. When he returned, he ushered Puccini into the living room.

The doctor seated himself on the sofa. Mario chose to stand.

"I'm Amelia's doctor," he explained hastily. "She was coming to see me on a regular basis- did you know about this?"

He shrugged. "I knew she was having some problems- she said she needed some help getting her feeling sorted out. I didn't know she was actually getting any help."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

He shrugged coolly. "About seven weeks or so ago, I guess."

Puccini leaned forward and moistened his lips.

"Mario, I'm here because I believe that Amelia is in trouble- I'm sure exactly what kind of trouble yet, but I know it is imperative that we find her."

The young man frown and distress shone in his eyes.

"You know why she stopped calling?" he asked.

The doctor shook his head. "When I last spoke to her, she was very confused. She seemed lost."

"I don't get it."

"I mean lost in a very literal sense. She's lost herself. She has no concept of who she is."

"So you're saying my baby sister is crazy." He sounded angry.

"No, no," Puccini corrected quickly. "She suffers from frequent dissociative fugue."

"What?"

"A person in a dissociative fugue may suddenly leave their previous living arrangements and forget or be confused about their identity and they may adopt a new one. They are able to perform well enough to survive under the new identity. These episodes are generally caused by a severe stressor and are time limited to a few days, but may last months. When the fugue ends, the person is unable to recall what occurred during this state." He sighed. "What caused this in Amelia, I don't know. The important thing is that we find her."

Puccini rose to his feet. "Amelia may try to contact you. You must convince her to tell you where she is, and then contact me immediately."

He handed a business card over to Mario who took it apprehensively.

"Don't try to reason with her," he warned. "Let me do that. Do you understand how very important it is that you call me?"

The young man nodded sadly.

**_

* * *

_**

Broots was not happy about the mission they were on. In truth, he wasn't sure why Miss Parker had insisted upon he and Sydney coming with her while she was on a personal vendetta. He sighed wearily.

A door slammed shut.

Broots jumped and frantically shoved the picture of his daughter back into his pocket.

"You ready?" Parker cast him a sidelong glance as she pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open.

"Y-y-yeah."

She held the phone to her ear and gave whatever she happened to be looking at a scathing glare.

"How long do I have to keep him on the line?"

Broots finished the configuration of the electronic equipment before him.

"I need at least five minutes, maybe more. It depends on how strong the signal is."

She turned her back on him as her target answered her call.

"Hello, Lyle," she hissed.

"Parker?" He sounded confused as though she had just awoken him.

"Did I wake up Baby?" she sneered.

"No," his tone quickly regained it usual arrogance. "I'm just surprised to hear from you, Sis. Thought you'd be hot on Jarod's trail right now… Or did you conveniently lose him… Again."

Parker's jaw unhinged slightly, she was only momentarily pushed off-balanced.

"What exactly are you implying?"

"Nothing, Sis. Nothing at all," he paused and Parker could just see the gloat on his face. "It just seems to me that Jarod has slipped through your fingers a few too many times. Granted, I never caught him, but then again, I didn't chase him as long as you have. After all these years, I would think Jarod would slip up and you'd get a little closer."

There was something distinctly vicious in the suspension of words between them. Parker all but stopped breathing as she tried to quell the rage that was boil inside her.

"Then again," Lyle jeered, "Maybe you have…"

"Are you accusing me of intentionally letting him go?"

"I'm accusing you of aiding the enemy, yes. Daddy would have a coronary if he found out what his little "angel" doing, now wouldn't he?"

"You wouldn't," Parker's tone was low and menacing. Broots swallowed and hard; he could practically feel the hatred radiating out of her. "You have no evidence of that. I-"

"So why are you so quick to defend yourself. If what I say bears no truth, why get so worked up over it… Sis?"

Broots didn't dare to look at her as though making eye contact would turn him into stone.

"I got it," he whimpered, not sure if she heard him or not.

As enraged as she was, Parker's voice was terriblely cool and calm as she issued her final warning to him.

"You know, Lyle, I sincerely hope that your little Project doesn't kill you before I get the chance to."

Broots was ready for her when she finally turned back to him.

"I-I-I've got his, um, his location," Broots told her. She was leaning over his shoulder now with her cheek to close to his ear. The entire right side of his face felt on fire and he was immensely uncomfortable with her so close.

"Tell me."

"He's in, in a parking garage about ele-eleven blocks from here."

"Get Sydney."

Broots froze.

"Are you deaf?" she snapped. "Now!"

Anxiously, Broots scurried to comply.

The evil glint of dagger held her attention fast. She cowered in the corner as her attacker advanced on her. Death's maniacal grin flashed from beneath long, amber hair.

This couldn't be happening… and yet it was….

The child she had let into her home, the sweet blessed child who was so affectionate and eager to please, had morphed into a homicidal sociopath in a matter of hours.

The dagger rose high in the air, poised to strike. With swift precision, it fell…

She awoke in a panic, shaking from the night terrors that so often plagued her. Sweat drenched the cloth closest to her body.

Minutes passed. Slowly, she regained her senses as the dream images vanished. At length she could stand and Mia staggered into the street, searching for some sort of peace.

**_"Yeah it's the king of nothing and the queen of rage … _**

She watched him for a long while, studying his curious behavior. He darted in and out of the parked cars in a strange zigzagging pattern while constantly glancing about as though he were looking for something… or looking to stay away from something. Finally, he stopped and fell back against a wall- he looked spent and exhausted. It was odd to see him look so vulnerable.

He began to move again with a sudden start. He was staring over his shoulder as he jogged forward and never saw her coming.

A closed fist connected with his jaw just as he was turning his head. The force and shock fell him to the floor.

Lyle stared up into the hate-filled eyes of his sister.

**_With a pile of confusion upon a glittering stage… _**

"What is your problem!?" he returned her glare with equal intensity.

"You," she spat. She drew her gun and aimed it at his heart.

He rolled his eyes in disparagement. "Put that thing away, Parker. You're not going to use it."

She stared at him in incredulity of his audacity as he stood up. Her gun remained level with his chest.

"Are you really that arrogant or are you just that stupid?"

Lyle smirked at her. "Come on, Sis, you shot me once before at close range and missed. So I don't have much faith that you're going to kill me this time around."

"I didn't miss, moron," she returned, "Cockroaches are just hard to kill."

"Really, Parker," he straightened his tie and smoothed his rumpled jacket. "I don't have time for this."

He began to walk away.

The gun fired.

**_You know we never did anything to make ourselves feel proud … _**

Lyle spun around wide-eyed and startled.

"That was a warning shot," Parker snapped, stepping closer to him.

"You really are crazy!" His eyes narrowed and he turned fully to her, holding his arms out to the side.

"Shoot me now," he dared. "Come on, do it. You're so bent on killing me- so get it over with."

"I've have questions I want answered before I send you to your Maker."

"You and your questions," he said scornfully. "You know if you spent less time asking and more time doing, Jarod would have been caught long ago." Lyle was not a stupid man- he had a reason for infuriating her further.

"Shut up!" she nearly screamed at him. "Tell me where the Seventh Member is!"

"Now if I knew that, do you really think I'd be wandering around a parking garage looking for her?"

Resentfully, she conceded that he had a point then she grinned at him triumphantly.

"I see I'm not the only one who keeps loosing their Projects."

"Please, Parker," Lyle inched closer to her. "I only lost her because of those interfering idiots in black. If they hadn't gotten in my way, the Seventh Member would've been in the Triumvirate's hands days ago."

"I'm sure."

He saw her grip on the gun relax ever so slightly and then he saw his chance.

**_You know we never did anything so let's play it loud … _**

Parker was thrown to the ground as Lyle rushed at her so fast she didn't have a chance to react. Her gun flew out her grasp and slid under a car. As quickly as he was upon her, he was off and retrieving the weapon.

With a wickedly victorious grin, Lyle stood over her with her own gun aimed at her head.

"Well, well, well, how ironic is this?"

Parker could do nothing but stare at him, still unnerved by how quickly she had lost control of the situation. He crouched down beside her and pressed the barrel of the gun into her temple.

"You know," he said nonchalantly, "Today is your lucky day, Sis."

The gun withdrew from her head as he stood back up.

"I have bigger fish than you to fry."

He took the clip out of her gun and slipped it into his pocket, tossing the gun to the floor. Then he disappeared into the shadows.

**_Let's hear it for the King and Queen of America ..." _**

* * *

**_I know you're watching me every minute of the day… I've seen the signs and the looks and pictures that give your game away… _**

After being called into to investigate the murder of an assistant to Dr. Viktor Puccini, Jarod was on his way to nail Lyle. Surveillance cameras in the doctor's building captured the entire murder in gory detail. From the tape, Jarod was able to tell that Lyle had removed files from the doctor's office, but motive for the murder was unclear- of course Lyle never needed a motive.

Patient monitoring of the surveillance cameras in surrounding areas had paid off when Lyle emerged in a parking garage, not far from where Jarod was watching for him.

He stepped cautiously through the garage, watching every shadow. The gun he held felt awkward in his grip. No matter how much he handled a weapon, Jarod didn't think he'd ever get used to it.

A noise of the other side of aisle he was in put him on guard. Stealthily, he crept toward the sound. He stopped and there was silence. He began to move again, and the noise returned. He was in the open now, in the center of a wide aisle.

_Click, click, click… _

Jared spun around with gun cocked and ready and found himself staring down the barrel of a 9mm.

**_Don't say you're easy on me, you're about as easy as a nuclear war… _**

Ice blue eyes stared him down. Jarod's gun trembled in his confusion.

"Miss Parker?"

Her frown deepened- she was as stunned as he was.

"Jarod?"

Their guns slowly lowered. They gawked at each other in astounded quiet.

Parker spoke first.

"You idiot, what are you doing here?"

Jarod put his free hand on the back of his neck. "I tracked Lyle here."

"Yeah, well, he's gone," she snapped in annoyance. The only thing more humiliating than loosing Lyle was loosing Lyle and being caught by Jarod.

"Oh."

She glared at him- that look he was giving her, that lost puppy dog look, was irritating her immensely.

"Stop that!"

"What?"

"Nothing," she muttered, putting her gun away.

Jarod looked at her curiously.

"That's it?" he asked with a hint of merriment. "You have me cornered and you're putting your gun away? You give up easily these days, Miss Parker."

"Oh, shut up," she snarled, patting her pockets in search of a cigarette. "Like you didn't know my clip was empty."

"Actually," Jarod cocked his head to the side and smiled. "I didn't. Thanks for the information."

Parker swore under her breath. The day could not get any worse.

"It's not like you to have an unloaded weapon," he commented watching her light up. "What happened?"

"Lyle took it," she said exhaling a ring of smoke. "It was the only clip I had on me."

"What's the deal with Lyle?" he asked. "I know why you hate him, but why go after him now?"

"Because he killed my r-" she started to tell him that Lyle killed the rabbit he had given her, but she caught herself. "Because."

Jarod stepped closer.

"I know what happened to the rabbit," he confessed quietly. "I'm sorry."

"How did you-???"

He simply shrugged.

"Did you get Lyle to tell you where Amelia is?" his tone turned grave.

Parker shook her head. "I got exactly nothing out of him."

"I'm not surprised he wouldn't talk," Jarod murmured. He looked at her both shyly and hopefully. "I need help," he told her frankly. "I need your help…"

"Jarod," Parker backed away from him. "Look, if anyone from the Centre found out about this, it'd all be over. So go away." She looked away from him. "Go away now."

He stepped closer. "Parker…"

**_Please, please tell me now… Is there something I should know? Is there something I should say…that would make you come my way… _**

"Don't ask for the impossible, Jarod."

"It's not impossible for you to help me. You did before…"

"Stop it, Jarod!" She turned her back on him completely, but not before he saw the torn look on her face. "We're not children anymore!"

"Please," he sounded desperate in his pleading. She hated it- hated him for making her feel guilty. "Please help me and I can help you."

She turned her head slightly. "It won't change anything. I won't stop chasing you."

"I know."

"I could betray you."

"I'll take that chance."

"Only until we find out what Project Heptagon is."

"Only until we find out what Project Heptagon is," he promised.

She heard the hope in his voice and it bothered her all the more. She began to walk away.

"Parker," he called after her.

She stopped.

"Thank you."

The Pretender watched as she disappeared into the shadows.

**_Do you feel the same 'cos you don't let it show…_ **


	13. Criminal World

**Chapter 12: Criminal World**

_**I'm a million ages past you- a million years behind you too… A thousand miles up in the air- a trillion times I've seen you there…**_

He was a vain man, far too proud to admit his humanity. But if, for just a moment, he were honest with himself, he would confess that his run-in with Parker had shaken him.

He was adapted to being loathed and despised. He was accustomed to being wanted dead. But when it was his own sibling, his only confirmed blood relative, who so abhorred him and wished him deceased, it struck an odd note with him.

For a brief instant, his thoughts drifted back to his youth- a place where he rarely let them go. Broken pictures of disturbing events that had help to make him who he was flashed rapidly through his head to the tune of a cacophonous soundtrack. He could never pin the specifics down, but he knew that each experience involved the man who for eighteen years he had called "Mr. Lyle"- never "Dad". His "father" had hated him; his "mother" had feared him and they never let him forget it. What could a child possibly do to incur such violent reactions? He would sometimes wonder about this for this was his "family's" response to him long before the Jimmy incident. Was it that he really was just the "bad seed"? Had he always been a thing to despise? The answers escaped him because his memories began at age fifteen- before that there was nothing.

The image of his "perfect" sister floated through his twisted psyche- Daddy's favorite. She never bothered to conceal her odium for him, so why he bothered to hide his for her he wasn't quite sure. A part of him ached with regret- he so wished that he had pulled that trigger earlier. But the wrath it would have brought upon him was not something he was at this time prepared to deal with. She _had_ been very lucky today indeed…

Parker's blue eyes turned gray and he watched in curious wonder as her hair grew longer and turned to sunset red….

Lyle awoke with a violent start.

_**Your hair is golden, mine is gray… You walk on grass, it turns to hay… Your blood is blue and mine is red…**_

"Stupid idiot," he cursed himself.

He was still in the parking garage crouched down behind large plastic barrels filled with sand that blocked off a section of the garage. He glanced around, disoriented from the blackout.

Stillness encompassed him. He was alone.

He stood up slowly, hampered by the pain of having his knees pinned against his chest for… how long had he been unconscious?

A glance at his Rolex told him it had been well over thirty minutes. He bit back a growl of discouragement.

And that's when he saw her… standing in the shadows with that forlorn face.

_**I can't reach you- I've strained my eyes… I've split my sides… I can't reach, see, feel or hear from you…**_

"Mia?"

He started jogging to where she was. He was nearly beside her when she began to withdraw.

"No, wait!" He was confused- why was she running from him?

She looked back over her shoulder at him, beckoning to him with those eyes.

His pace quickened as desperation propelled him forward. Why was she running?

_To get away from you…_

He stopped suddenly and whirled around searching for source of the voice. There was nothing…

He turned back and saw Mia standing there in front him. She was hugging the corner of a wall still staring at him.

Gingerly, he stepped toward her with as friendly of a look on his face as he could manage. Her mouth opened slightly in a silent

"oh". He reached out a hand to her, motioning her to come to him. She watched him with fear-filled eyes. Once again, just as he was in touching distance of her, she ran from him.

_She knows who you are… _the voice was over his shoulder now. _And she hates you… Just like the others…_

He wasn't sure if he was running to Mia or away from the voice. All of the sudden, he was standing in the middle of a street…

_**The distances grow greater now… You're still alive and I'm nearly dead… I can't reach you… With my arms outstretched **_

_**I crane my neck…**_

York… he was on York Avenue…

A car whizzed by and Lyle jumped out of the street just in the nick of time. From his vantage point of safety, he saw a terrifying sight…

Mia was standing in the busy intersection with a car speeding at her.

"NOOOOO!!!!" he screamed as the car plowed through her not even attempting to stop.

He ran to the spot where she was hit only to find… nothing. There was no bloody mess, no body in the road. Because she had never been there in the first place- he had been chasing an apparition.

Stunned and greatly disturbed, Lyle shut his eyes for a long while, trying to regain his bearing and his senses. When he reopened them, he was standing in front of a four family flat. One of the outside addresses screeched at him:** 214.**

He fumbled in his pocket and fished out a note card with the address of Mia's grandmother on it. Sure enough Gianina Micelli lived at 214 York Avenue.

Something gold had fallen to the ground when he had removed the note. He stooped over and retrieved the gold piece. It was the ring… the ring he had "borrowed" from that troll of a man from the doctor's office. It gleamed in the light of the street lamps.

Leisurely, he removed the black glove from his left hand and adjusted the white bandages before slipping the ring onto his fourth finger. He held his hand out and scrutinized the fit. It was a bit large, but it would do.

With his old self firmly returned to its proper place, Lyle straightened his tie and jaunted up the stairs to "meet the family".

_**Once, I caught a glimpse of your unguarded untouched heart… **_

"What?" An angry young man answered his knock.

Lyle's expression was one of hope mixed with anxiety.

"I'm," he cleared his throat and began again. "I'm looking for Amelia."

The youth's expression darkened considerably. "You and the rest of the stinkin' world. Go away!" He began to shut the door, but he was hindered.

"You don't understand," Lyle entreated. "She-"

"No, you, don't understand!" Mario flung the door open wide. "I don't give a care who you are or why you want my sister. Leave my family alone!"

"She's my wife."

The words that were about to fly from the younger man died before they were voiced.

"What??"

And just like that he was in.

"Mia's my wife," he repeated, extending his right hand. "I'm Robert Bowman. You must be Mario."

Mario glanced into the house behind him. "Look," he whispered, motioning the man in. "Make this quick, all right. I don't want to upset Nonna- she comes back you get out. Capisca?"

"Yes."

Mario led him into the dining room and had "Robert" sit across the table from him. He was sick, absolutely sickened by the unrelenting freak show that continued to parade through their home since Mia's disappearance. But this was too much for him to cope with…. His little sister got married and never told him? Mario was supremely suspicious of this claim; running off and marrying some guy didn't sound like Mia; Maria, now she would pull a stunt like that. But Mia? Mario could not accept it.

Robert gave him a knowing look. "I take it that she hasn't told you…"

"No." Mario held his gaze as though a menacing glare might scare the man into changing his story. "How long?"

"Seven weeks," Robert replied hesitantly, looking away from the persistent gaze. "It was a brief courtship, very brief. But, ah, we knew it was the real deal and saw no reason to wait."

"So if you're married to my sister why don't _you _know where she is?" His tone was harsh and accusing.

He sighed heavily and his eyes got a heartbroken, distant look in them. "She, uh, she's been having some problems lately… well, actually she was having them before we, you know, got married. But she'd been seeing a psychoanalyst, um, Dr. Puccini, and things were getting better… at least I thought they were. Anyway, she took off a few days ago. I got home from work and she… was just gone. I, I knew she had family in the City and I thought, I was hoping she maybe came here."

It was Mario's turned to sigh. He pushed his chair away from the table and leaned back. He didn't know what to think- the guy's story seemed plausible and he seemed genuinely upset about his wife's departure.

_His wife? There's just no way…_

His eyes kept drifting to the gold band on Robert's left hand…

"What happened to you?"

Robert glanced at the bandaged hand. "Cutting carrots for a salad," he said sheepishly. "Knife slipped."

Mario nodded absently. "She hasn't been here," he said finally, staring at the floor. "Haven't heard anything in weeks."

There was rustling from the kitchen. Mario looked up worriedly. "Nonna's back. I don't mean to be rude or nothing, but it'd really upset her to find out now that Mia's married and didn't tell us… she's always had big dreams for Mia's wedding and all."

Robert stood up with Mario. As the young man came around to table to usher him out, Robert took him by the arm.

"Look," he said quietly, "I'm really sorry about dumping this on you. I wish we'd met under better circumstances."

Mario nodded, his eyes swam in tears. "Yeah," he choked out. "So do I. You think she's okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I think she will be. Hey, as soon as I find her, I'll bring her home."

The men shook hands and Mario closed the door behind his "brother-on-law" believing his sister would be safe.

As Robert walked down the front stairs he changed back into Mr. Lyle who smirked, quite pleased with himself, as he took the band off his finger and discarded it in the bushes as soon as he was out of sight.

_**Our fingertips touched and then my mind tore us apart…**_

* * *

She found herself wandering around a deserted part of town. She stopped under a streetlight and pulled out the wallet. Carefully, she counted the bills inside and was relieved to find that there was enough to get something to eat. As she slid the wallet back into her pocket, she noticed that a card had escaped from it and fluttered to the ground. She snatched it up and looked it over. It was a business card for a Dr. Viktor Puccini and over the standard information was scrawled _Friday 2:30pm_ and that was all. 

Mia glance up and down the street before crossing to the other side where a broken neon sign of a Chinese diner flickered unsteadily.

The tiny diner was crowded with rickety tables, but devoid of customers. The stench of fish lingered in the air, a peculiar odor for a Chinese restaurant. In fact, there was nothing in the décor that indicated ethnicity; rather it looked like the diner had been hastily installed in an abandoned building. Something distinctly foreboding laced the atmosphere.

A noise from the kitchen grabbed her attention. Shadows moved around the galley doorway. Just as she was about to flee, an impossibly tiny Chinese woman stepped into the light. She must have been a beauty once before time got the best of her. She spoke in a torrent of Mandarin and did not look happy. She pointed to a table and handed Mia a menu. Since she could not read a word of Chinese, Mia pointed to a random item and hoped for the best. The woman tapped a small speaker box on the table.

"Listen."

Mia nodded as the woman put a piece of paper with a number in front of her. In an instant, she was alone.

She removed some of the newspaper clipping from her pocket again and zeroed in on one that covered the most recent finding of Detective Wayne.

Smoke filled the bedroom suite. An ashtray full of cigarette butts set on the nightstand next to the bed.

Parker blew smoke rings at the dark TV opposite her as she listened to Jarod's rundown of the latest murders he had investigated. One was yet another former Centre associate discovered in room number 77 of a rundown motel and the other was the manager of the same motel- no Centre connection. Jarod also said he had retrieved a broken glass syringe from the crime scene and was having it analyzed.

"So now what?" she asked, flickering the ashes from the end of her cigarette haphazardly over the ashtray.

"I don't know," Jarod admitted sullenly. "I'm going over every DSA again to make sure there isn't something hidden there."

"Any luck?"

"No. Have you found out anything about Amelia's parents?"

"Her father, Salvatore Micelli, was convicted of a triple homicide ten years, been rotting on death row ever since. Her mother's apparently an agoraphobic schizophrenic- she's been voluntarily holed up at Bellevue since her husband's arrest. Looks like she couldn't handle the truth about her Sal."

Jarod was silent. Parker could hear him tapping away on a keyboard. She mulled over what little information her father provided her about the Seventh Member. She wished she could have gotten her hands on that file, but there was no telling where Lyle had it stashed.

_Lyle…._

Her fingers and her cheeks burned… for different reasons. Her finger itched to pull the trigger that would finally and permanently send her demented sibling six feet under. Her cheeks fired with the humiliating turn of events that sent her into a chain-smoking rampage.

Jarod was saying something to her, but her thoughts were elsewhere as something suddenly struck her.

"We should check to see if Amelia is adopted," she said abruptly.

"I don't follow," he said a bit confused.

"Think about it," she challenged, leaning forward. "What do we know about my baby brother's adoptive parents? Don't you think it's a little bit strange that Amelia's father is in prison for murder and so is Lyle's. And Amelia's mother is a mental case and-"

"So is Lyle's," Jarod finished. "That _is _quite a coincidence."

"When the Centre is involved _nothing_ is coincidence."

"True," he murmured. After a long pause he added, "Would you go out with me tonight?"

Parker spat her cigarette onto the bedspread and nearly dropped the phone as she leapt to get the butt off the bed. There was a

lovely heart-shaped singe left behind. She turned her back on the bed and walked over to the window.

Jarod was chuckling on the other end of the line as he imagined her response.

"So how bout it, Miss Parker?"

"You're not funny, Wonder Boy," she hissed, not even a little amused.

"Oh, come on now," he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "Don't tell me you've got another date."

"Keep it up and this partnership is over."

"Lighten up, Miss Parker," Jarod smiled, "I just thought you might want to come sleuthing with me. You never know when we

might run across your 'baby' brother and his playmate."

"Fine," she snapped. "But I have one condition, Jarod."

"What's that?"

"Leave Lyle to me."

* * *

The newspaper articles were spread out before her as was every relevant item from her wallet- all the clues to her existence. However, there were several pieces of the puzzle still missing. 

There were two cards lying on the table between her hands. One was the card from Sun Lei's with the name Angel scrawled on it- the handwriting was not the same feminine handwriting as on the doctor's card; it was more masculine. The second card was a blank white card with a phone number on it.

As time passed her eyelids grew heavy- it had been so long since she had slept. She yawned and gathered the paper clippings into a pile.

Someone entered the diner.

Three men stepped in, all wearing black suits, but only two were wearing black overcoats. The light gleamed eerily off of their dark glasses.

Quickly, they surrounded her table. Her limbs felt like lead- she couldn't move.

The man sitting across from her smiled evilly. His blue eyes sparked in malevolence and a name broke through her clouded consciousness… Cox…

"Don't fall asleep," he taunted, "you might never wake up…"

The Black Coats smiled large, pasty smiles.

"Seventy-seven," they said in unison. "Seventy-seven."

Their voices took on a feminine quality as they continued to chant. Mr. Cox stood up and knocked his chair over in the process.

The crash startled her and she jumped up, terrified and disoriented.

She was completely alone.

"Seventy-seven!!!" the box on the table screamed at her indignantly.

The men had been a dream.

* * *

Puccini was settled in a temporary office on the thirty-sixth floor until the police had finished with their investigation. Several high watt bulbs lighted the room.

A long shadow loomed over his desk.

"I don't understand why this such an issue." He said to the source of the shadow. "This isn't the first time this has happened and it certainly won't be the last. There is always a loose end to be dealt with."

Mr. White stepped out of the shadows and squinted at the doctor.

"But this is an unusual situation don't you think?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Never before have we had two loose ends running around that knew about each other."

"Yes," the doctor conceded, "but it was the Triumvirate who wanted Lyle to bring Amelia in. They were aware of the situation."

"He has not followed his orders."

"And this surprises you?" Puccini swiveled his chair lazily from side to side. "Lyle has always followed his own agenda, even when he was a boy. You should be used to dealing with him by now."

"You have point," White replied disgruntled. "But this time we've had no success reigning him in- we haven't been able to even

get close enough. And even Miss Parker is rebelling. We have never had issue with her before."

Puccini rubbed his hand over his chin in contemplation. "So what do you want from me?"

"Amelia is your patient. She will come to you."

"Maybe. But with Lyle she might do anything."

"She will come and you will contain her," Mr. White told him definitively. "Should Mr. Lyle come asking questions, you _will_ tell him nothing. Do you understand?"

Puccini nodded.

As he left, Mr. White called over his shoulder, "The next time we meet, Doctor, turn down the lights. You know how

uncomfortable they are for us."

_**Everybody calls me the quiet one… You can see, but you can't hear me… Everybody calls me the quiet one… You can try, but you can't get near me…**_

She didn't stay in the diner- she had lost her appetite rather quickly. Surrounded by the partitions of a rusted out phone booth, Mia tried to calm her nerves before lifting the phone from its receiver.

The operator answered after several rings.

"Um," Mia glanced around at the environment around the booth, "I'm looking for a Mia Micelli… Micelli…That many listings?"

Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip and pierced it. She didn't notice the bleeding.

"Are they listed by area? What area? I- I don't know? Maybe Brooklyn… I don-… no, no…"

_**I ain't never ever had the gift of the gab, but I can talk with my eyes… Words fail me, but you won't nail me… My eyes can tell you lies…**_

She slammed the phone down as tears streamed down her cheeks. She found Micelli in the phonebook but there were so many and her vision was so blurred…

The phone book tumbled to the ground.

_**Still waters run deep… So be careful I don't drown you… You've got nothing to hear, I've got nothing to say… Sticks and stones may break your bones… But names can never drown you …It only takes two words to blow you away…**_

The phone in Puccini's office rang shrilly. He turned from the two black file folders he was studying and answered the call.

"Yes, this is Dr. Puccini."

He listened for a moment, then his eyes widened in surprise.

"Where are you? I've been very concerned about you, Amelia? You come and see me."

"Amelia?" she wondered aloud. "Is that my full name?"

"Yes," he confirmed, astonished by how much of her memory was gone.

"You know who I am?"

"Yes, of course, Amelia."

"I called because I thought you…you could," she ran her hand through her hair and stared out of the window. "I though you could help… I can't remember anything…"

"Calm down, Amelia," he said soothingly. "Of course, I can help. But it is best that we speak face to face. This is not something to discuss over the phone."

"What do you know about me?" she asked, ignore his plea to meet in person. She wasn't ready for that and she didn't like his persistence on the subject.

"I know about the trouble you are in, if that's what you're asking."

"Am _I_ the City Slayer?"

There was silence on the line.

"Did _I _kill those people?" Her voice was shrill and continued to rise in pitch. She was near hysterics and afraid of his answer.

"Don't you know the answer to that?" he said finally.

She nearly screamed.

_**Everybody calls me the quiet one… But you just don't understand… You can't listen, you won't hear me with your head stuck in the sand…**_

"I just told you I can't remember! I thought I might have… maybe remembered something…But I don't know! Why is that so hard for you to understand!"

There was unhinged quality to her voice and Puccini knew that she was on the verge of a nasty transformation.

"I just, I just," her words came out in hiccupy sobs. "I just don't know how I could've done those things… I… I can hardly squash

a roach… I… I don't how I could've kill a person…"

"I know it's confusing, Amelia," Puccini said still as placid as ever. But underlying his collected demeanor, he was nearly as hysterical as his patient. He absolutely could not loose this one. "Just calm down. Everything will be all right. We _will _work through everything. You are _not_ alone. It will be much better once you come in and see me. All right, Amelia?"

There was no answer.

"Amelia? Amelia, are you there? Amelia?"

He had lost her…

_**I ain't never had time for words that don't rhyme… My head is in a cloud… I ain't quiet, everybody else is too loud… **_

* * *

They were both on the run from the creatures from the Black Lagoon.

She couldn't believe her misfortune. Somehow she had managed to escape into a warehouse occupied by a cult… or at least that's what it looked like.

The storehouse was filled with rows upon rows of people, very frightened people, sitting on benches. The crowd was an eclectic mix of young and old, men and women, black, white, all races… And their rapt attention was all focused on a short, little man with a bushy beard and eyebrows to match who was standing on a makeshift platform of cinderblocks.

"We have lived in terror for too long!" he shouted in a high-pitched voice that rose higher and higher with each word. "There is a vicious murderer among us!"

She slipped into an empty seat, trying to blend in. After all, wasn't there supposed to be safety in numbers?

"It could be the woman next to you!" he jabbed an accusatory finger at the crowd. "Everyone is suspect!"

The crowd murmured and shifted fearfully under his ominous glare.

"There is a sociopath stalking us! And he lives among us!" he declared. "She may be sitting next to you! He may be a handsome stranger- that man back there!"

His pudgy hand shot out over the heads of the crowd suddenly. The crowd turned in unison to stare at where he was pointing.

Mia followed their lead and her sight fell onto to a sharply dressed man with piercing blue eyes. Her jaw dropped when she saw who had been fingered.

_Lyle!_

She nearly jumped out of her seat and ran to him.

He saw her and caught her eyes. Once the crowd had lost interest in him, he motioned for her to quietly come to the back of the building.

The man up front continued his tirade.

Lyle slowly rose and Mia mirrored his movement. As they were about to step into the aisle, the door creaked open. Black Coats stood in the doorway.

He signaled to her to duck down. She crept along the outside aisle and saw an unguarded side exit- she prayed that he saw it too.

The man's sermon droned on and not a soul seemed to notice the strange men who were searching their gathering place.

She couldn't see him anymore as she crawled on her hands and knees to the door.

"Lost something, sweetie?"

Startled, she stared up at the old woman who had spoken to her. The woman was filthy and smelled. She gave Mia a toothless, crooked grin.

"No. I…"

The shiny black leather of the Black Coats shoes caught her eye.

"You're real restless then," the woman commented. She crouched down next to the girl, blocking her escape path.

Without thinking, She took the gun out of her pocket, careful to keep it hidden from the woman.

"Is something wrong?" the old hag pressed. "I can help, you know." She watched the girl curiously. "Someone after you, sweetie?"

"What?" she gaped at her. With a fierce glare, she snapped, "No, of course not!"

"See that man?" the woman leaned close and whispered conspiratorially in her ear. She gripped Mia's chin and raised it so she could see whom she was referring to. The woman pointed her gnarled finger at Lyle. "He's evil… pure evil."

Mia jerked away rudely. "You're crazy, old woman."

The woman merely smiled dreamily and turned away. Mia hissed at her with narrowed eyes.

"Where are you going?" her voice was no longer innocent, but angry and hard.

"To tell the police," woman replied.

A sinister feeling filled her veins and she felt strangely dissociated from her psyche. She lunged for the old woman, grabbed her frail arm, and pressed the gun into her spine.

"You listen to me," she said, "I have to get out of here and you're gonna help me. Walk! And don't say a word. Got it?"

The woman nodded dumbly.

Mia looked around the warehouse. There was no sign of the Black Coats… or Lyle.

"Don't kill me," the woman whimpered pitifully.

"I'm not going to kill you. Walk."

"Please, no."

"Shut up!"

People turned in their seats to see what the commotion was. The woman saw her chance and kicked Mia in the shin. She faltered and the woman got away.

"Murderer!" she screeched.

Now everyone was staring.

"It's her! The City Slayer!"

And suddenly she snapped back into herself. In her confusion, Mia showed the gun.

And chaos took control as the crowd stampeded for the exit.

Lyle watched the scene unravel and forced his way through the crowd trying to reach her. She saw him coming and attempted to reach him halfway.

He had one chance and one chance only to grab her. To his chagrin, he could not reach for her with his right hand- the mass had his arm pinned against his side. He tried to communicate this to her- to make her understand, but it was useless; she could not hear him over the noise of fear. His only option was to take hold of her with his left hand. He caught her hand and she held onto him with all her strength, but it was not enough. Without the additional strength and reinforcement his thumb would have provided, he could not keep her.

It was not the first time he had cursed his involvement with the Yakuza.

The crowd pushed her against the outer wall far away from him. Something hard and round pressed itself into her back and she was afraid it was a gun. She dared to turn to see her fate and discovered that it was only a doorknob.

She didn't need to be forced out of that door.

The alley was empty, mercifully. The screams and cries of the terrified people still clamoring to get out filled the air. Surely, the police would be arriving at any time.

She ran stumbling through the alley, barely able to stay on her feet. Her shoe caught on something and sent her to the ground with a splash. She landed square in the center of a large puddle of what she hoped was water.

A twisted, uneven laugh gurgled out of her throat. The laughter dissolved into the deep sobs. She pulled her knees up close to her chest and laid her head against her knees. She did not hear the footsteps approaching.

A strong masculine hand captured her shoulder.

With a start, Mia turned and jumped back ready to fight or run. She stared up at her assailant and almost passed out.

"Lyle!" she cried, barely able to contain herself.

He was about to say something when the sobbing bundle of girl hit him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him as though he were the only thing she had in the world. He was more than a little bewildered- he hadn't expected such a response from. No one was ever exactly glad to see him.

Sirens wailed in the distance- the police were on their way. Without a word, he scooped her up and disappeared from the alley.


	14. Do You Believe In Shame?

**Chapter 13: Do You Believe In Shame?**A sheet of printer paper with eight names on it was placed on an old coffee table.

"Do you recognize any of these names?" Jarod asked the young man sitting across from him.

Mario studied the list before he shrugged. "I've seen some of the names in the paper and on the news."

"Take another look."

Jarod shot Parker a warning look. He'd ask her when they met that morning not to unnecessarily intimidate Amelia's family members. She'd said she try, but so far she wasn't doing very well.

"Tell me who you two are again," Mario said, glancing at the paper.

"I'm Detective Wayne, I'm with the NYPD and heading the City Slayer investigation," Jarod said smoothly. "This is my partner, Detective Gordon."

"I see you've got the good cop/ bad cop routine down pat," Mario commented dourly.

Parker rolled her eyes skyward and Jarod tried to conceal a smirk.

"I still don't get why you're looking for Mia," he went on. "You know, it kinda bites when everyone's askin' questions expecting you to answer, but won't answer none of your questions."

"That's understandable," Jarod nodded. "We're just trying to help her, Mr. Micelli."

"Yeah, they don't send two hot-shot detectives after a kid unless something serious is up," he glared at them angrily. "So if you're going to accuse my sister of some crime, I wanna know what it is."

Parker gave him a withering look. "You can do this the hard way or the easy way, Slick. It's you're choice."

Jarod sighed inwardly, almost wishing he'd made her wait in the car.

"What my partner is trying to say," Jarod cut in, trying to ward off a confrontation. "We need to ask Amelia about a murder."

"Whose murder?"

Parker gestured at the sheet.

"All of the them?" Mario stared at them dumbfounded. "You're kidding right? Man, this is some sort of… You've got her confuse for someone else."

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Micelli," Jarod informed him sorrowfully. "We were hoping that she could help us straighten this all out."

Mario said nothing. He stood and began to pace the floor. Jarod glanced at the partly open kitchen door and saw Mario's grandmother peering out. He felt badly for the family, they were obviously very upset about Amelia's disappearance. He always hated to be the bearer of bad news. Parker, on the other hand, seemed unaffected by the whole thing.

Mario suddenly turned on them, his face darkened by outrage.

"You're telling me that my sister, my little sister, is a murderer. And not just any murderer- a serial killer! You are so wrong… She's a good person. She's not capable of something like this!"

"No one wants to believe that their sibling is a sociopath, Mr. Micelli," Parker said rising from her seat. "Believe me."

Jarod stood up as well, and took Parker by the elbow.

"Cool it," he whispered. "Please."

She pulled out of his grasp and walked over to the living room window. While Jarod spoke comfortingly to Mario, Parker stared out of the window watching the street the below. In the building across from them a dark figure stood by one of the windows. When he saw her watching him, he vanished. Parker turned back to the men.

"Has anyone come here looking for Amelia?"

Mario looked up with a frown. "Yeah, actually, a couple of people."

Jarod picked up on where Parker's questioning was leading. "What can you tell us about them?"

Mario shrugged. "One was a Doctor… Puccini, I think. Apparently, Mia was seeing a shrink."

"Who else?"

"Her new husband stopped in looking for her."

Parker and Jarod exchanged surprised looks.

"Looks like baby girl's been busy," Parker commented as she walked around Jarod.

She gave Mario a slight smile. "That must have been quite a shocker."

"Yeah," the youth shoved his hands in his pockets. "You're telling me."

"Do you remember his name?" Jarod asked.

"Sure. It's Robert. Bowman… I think."

Parker's eyebrows rose. "Bobby Bowman?" she mouthed. Jarod nodded.

"Look, Mario," Jarod placed a friendly hand on the young man's shoulder. "I know all this must be very hard to deal with. But we really do want to help your sister. We are going to do everything to find her. Okay?"

Mario nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. Thanks, Detectives."

Once they were back in Jarod's rented car, Parker turned to him with an exasperated look.

"Detectives Wayne and Gordon? As in Bruce Wayne and Barbara Gordon?" she asked him reproachfully. "What is it with you and pop culture references?"

Jarod feigned injury that only made Parker more disgruntled. His partner went to buckle her seatbelt, but had difficulty finding the lock. A fight ensued. Jarod almost went to help her, but thought better of it; he was afraid he might loose his hand if he intervened.

Once she was settled in, Jarod buckled his own seatbelt without a hitch.

Parker shot him a dirty look.

"Lyle's a real piece of work," she seethed "What won't he do for power?"

"Yeah," Jarod gripped the steering wheel and frowned. "That was quite a story for him to concoct. But it tells us one thing…"

Parker looked at him. "What?"

He fired up the engine and pulled into the stream of traffic.

"He doesn't have her yet…."

* * *

**_There's a problem with me I can't seem to shake it away… It feeds on the doubts and it's fueled by uncertainty… _**

He stood by the window in a darkened room. The blinds were cracked open only enough for him to see out. All seemed still and calm and that's what bothered him most.

He left the window and paced the floor. He was conflicted over what to do: follow original orders and return Mia to the Centre or not? He reached for his cell phone and was about to dial, then thought better of it. If Parker had traced his location via his phone surely the Centre would be ready and waiting to do the same.

His briefcase was waiting for him, concealed in a false panel in the wall of the kitchen. For the first time, he was glad that he bought this little flat in the City; it certainly had come in handy, though he hoped the Centre was as unaware of it as he thought they were.

From the attaché case he retrieved a portable telephone scrambler and attached it to the back of his cell phone. As he waited for the target of his call to pick up, he doubled-checked all the locks on the doors and windows and tripled-checked his gun.

"Hello?" the voice that answered seemed annoyed.

"Hello, Dad," he said crisply. He stopped his pacing by the bedroom door.

"Lyle!" Mr. Parker tone was furious. "Where are you? Triumvirate's been going mad trying to locate you!"

Nice to hear from you too, Pops! Lyle cracked open the door and peeked in. He saw Mia's sleeping form and, when he was satisfied that she was all right, he closed the door again.

"Well, gee, I'm just a phone call away- why didn't they just ring?"

"Stop fooling around, Lyle! Do you have the Seventh Member or not?"

He paused, greatly irritated. Then a smile slipped over his features. "No," he said lightly.

"Lyle…" Mr. Parker's tone was dark and threatening. "If you've screwed this up…"

"Look," he snapped, "Call off your goons in black and then maybe I could get my job done."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Dad, you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Fine," Mr. Parker replied grudgingly. "I'll see what I can do. But, Lyle, it is imperative that you find the Seventh Member. It is…"

"Of utmost importance," He rolled his eyes skyward. "Yeah, save the spiel for Parker, okay?"

It took several seconds for Mr. Parker to control his fury enough to answer Lyle civilly. "Speaking of your sister, she's disobeyed orders and gone to the City. Has she contacted you?"

Parker's rebellion was certainly news to him and it came as a great surprise. He never would have thought that she would disobey Daddy Dearest. That knowledge made him feel a strange sort of pride in her…and it sickened him. But he had been presented with an interesting choice. If he said yes, Parker's world would no doubt cave in; there would T-boards to suffer through and whatever else the Centre deemed appropriate for the sin of insubordination. Then of course there was Daddy to deal with. She'd certainly be taken off the Pretender Retrieval. A simple yes and little information on his part and he would get to sit back and watch Parker's downfall.

"Lyle?"

"Sorry, Dad," Lyle said. "Just try opening a door without thumb sometime. What were you asking?" He was standing in the middle of the room, nowhere near a door.

"Miss Parker… has your sister contacted you?"

He rubbed his chin. "No," he said rather disgusted with himself for protecting her. "She hasn't."

"Fine," Lyle could tell by his father's tone that he didn't quite believe him. "I want a full report from you in two days. And you'd better have the Seventh Member with you!"

Cra-a-a-a-ck! The cell phone slammed into the kitchen table as Lyle shrieked his rage. He was about to put his fist through a wall

when a moving behind him made him pause.

"Lyle?" Mia stood in the bedroom doorway, sleepily rubbing her eyes. "I heard a noise… are you okay?"

**_Suspicion gives birth to this animal inside of me… Shaping faults that cease to exist… this madness is all I see… _**

"Yeah, fine," he said shortly without looking at her. "Just having a loving conversation with my father."

His sarcasm was not lost on the sleepy redhead. She watched him pace for a while, then sitting and standing again, and finally sitting again on the edge of the reclining chair. She softly walked over to him and sat on the coffee table tucking her legs underneath her.

"I take it your not on very good terms with your dad."

He looked at her through narrowed eyes and did not answer right away.

"You could say that," he said finally. And he did not say more.

"Oh." Mia fingered the fresh hole in the right knee of her jeans and pulled at the frayed edges. They sat in the gloomy silence for a long while. He watched her with a veiled gaze; he had no intention of discussing his past with her- the less she knew the better- but it made him uneasy when she seemed to take it so personally. Sitting Indian-style on the coffee table in front of him, she was hidden almost completely from his sight by the cloak of hair that surrounded and enclosed her like curtains. His gaze fell to her fingers that fidgeted with her jeans.

Suddenly, a hand trapped her fingers. She looked up curiously at him.

"Stop," he said and collapsed back against his chair.

She pursed her lips together in a thin line and folded her hands in her lap.

"Stop that," he snapped fiercely.

"What?" she looked confused.

"That…that pitiful look. I'm getting sick of it!"

"Sorry," she mumbled. His criticism only made the forlorn look worse.

He was immensely uncomfortable with her in close proximity. Typically, when he felt like he did, usually he dealt with it by lashing out at whatever unfortunate thing happen to be nearby. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to quell the urge to grab her and do something he might regret.

Regret…feh… what would one more regret be? I've got a lifetime of them… His body trembled with manic laughter as he fought to keep it silent.

"So hear from your old man much?" It was a stupid question asked in bad-tempered, disagreeable tone. He was surprise that she actually answered him.

"I can't remember."

_Of course, she can't remember! What an idiot you are!_

She stretched out her legs and slipped over to the couch, staring at him over the arm.

"Tell me about your family."

**_It feeds on the doubts and it's fueled by uncertainty… As I tear at my prey this angry heart tries to push you away… _**

And so he told her about his family. But the truth was so intertwined with invention in what he told her that it was doubtful that Lyle himself could distinguish fact from fiction. And it wasn't a sob story he gave her either, at least not at first. He attempted using the technique that usually best achieved what he wanted and that technique was fear. He told her horror story after horror story about his childhood and adulthood, making sure to expound on the most gruesome details. He even went so far to completely expose his warped hand in the same manner that always sent Broots scurrying into hiding. And for the first time in his memory, fear failed him. He was the one sent running for cover when he displayed his hand and she cradled it in hers, running her fingertips over the scar. Naturally, he made sure that his demeanor stayed intact and she did not see how badly that simple gesture rattled him. She thought she had hurt him by the way he jerked away from her; she apologized profusely and seemed on the verge of crying until he assured her he was fine.

Her unorthodox responses to his tactics meant that he had no way of predicting her actions that left him feeling that he wasn't in control of the situation. He hated not being in control.

**_This flaw in me is your hero's tragic end… The one that you reach has let you down… _**

There was one thing he could control, however, and that was her perception of Miss Parker and Jarod. He was meticulous in his tale about them, making absolutely sure that by the time he was finished with his story, she had nothing but dislike and malice for his twin and the Pretender. That partnered with her compassion for him only solidified her allegiance to him.

After she fell asleep once again, he gingerly slipped his left hand from between her hands and walked over to the window. Once more, he cracked the blinds enough so that he could see the City. His gaze swept over the skyline. Somewhere out there, he was certain, though he didn't know why, that Parker had found Jarod and, whatever her reason, was not taking him back where she should. And it was in this realization that he discovered why he had not turned Parker in earlier. She might have been able to escape complete destruction with the help of their father if he had told Daddy Parker the truth. But if he were able to provide the Triumvirate with indisputable evidence that his sister was fraternizing with the enemy, nothing would save her.

Lyle smiled. Parker may have a Pretender, but he had a Centre creation too. The playing field had just been leveled.

**_Jealousy mocks my soul- it's reduced to ash… As this night stands still erase the pain I can no longer mask… Erase the pain inside of me… _**

* * *

Jarod let out a long sigh as they parked across the street from Puccini's office building. He and Parker had been arguing since they left the Micelli's and the last thing he wanted to do was waste the precious little time he with her by fighting. Yet it seemed unavoidable. 

"Wipe that pitiful look off your face," she hissed at him, getting out of the car before he had a chance to respond.

Jarod bit back a sharp reply and followed her. They were about to enter the building when Parker abruptly stopped, backtracked, and pulled him out of sight.

"What are you-" a sharp jab to the ribs silenced him. He followed her gaze and saw the three men in black exiting the building.

"Those freaks sure get around," Parker murmured. In the back of her mind, there was the worry that someone had found out

where she really was and had sent them after her.

"What is it?" Jarod whispered, watching the men disappear into an alley.

"I don't know," she replied, motioning for him to follow her. "They showed up at the Centre days ago and have been hanging around ever since. But what they are and who they're working for, I don't know."

"I'll bet your father does," Jarod commented as they trailed the men. "Why didn't you mention them before?"

She ignored him.

The duo hid in the shadows of a doorway and continued watching the figures. Seemingly out of nowhere several Black Coats assemble in the alley. Jarod squinted at the two figures at the head of the gathering, but it was difficult make out their faces even in daylight. One of them turned slightly. Jarod's eyes widened.

"White?"

"And Cox," Parker added dourly.

White began to move around as though looking for something. Mr. Cox regarded him with superior disdain. A phone rang and Cox answered it. Wordlessly, he listened to the caller and then hung up. He motioned to Mr. White who rejoined him at the head of the procession. The two exchanged words, before White addressed the assembled.

"This way," he said shortly.

Parker and Jarod exchanged apprehensive looks as the bizarre troop marched away from them.

"We need to find out what they're here for," Jarod said with a deep frown marring his features.

"First things first, genius," Parker said, stepping out of the doorway. "Let's solve this Heptagon mystery first. As long as they don't bother us, let's leave 'em alone."

With a lingering concerned look at the alley, Jarod followed Parker into the office building.

* * *

She woke up in a fog due to someone shaking her. She resisted waking up, but the shaking was persistent.

"Mia, get up," Lyle's voice seemed a thousand miles away.

"What?" she slurred, struggling to sit up and still half-asleep. "Did they find us?"

"No," he said. "Just get up. I need to ask you some questions."

She yawned and blinked several times. "Ask me what?"

"What happened while we were separated?"

She frowned as the memory was hazy. "It was really strange," she said after awhile. "I remember waking up underwater in tub."

This caught his attention. He crashed next to her on the couch, gazing at her intently. "Underwater?"

She flushed, embarrassed by how ridiculous it sounded. "Yeah, uh, when I got out of the tub I remember when I looked down at my wet clothes I saw a broken syringe on the floor…"

"What else?"

She proceeded to tell him everything she could remember. He listened without interrupting, growing more and more disturbed. Then, suddenly, his face contorted in agony. A low growl escaped through clenched teeth.

"The case," he choked out. "Get the black case."

Mercifully, her memory did not fail and she was able to recall what he was talking about. She fumbled in the briefcase for the

syringes while his groans of anguish increased.

His condition wasn't so deteriorated that he couldn't administer the injection to himself and she found that she had to look away when he did. He improved immediately.

"That's the syringe," she told him as her eyes lit with recognition.

"Huh?"

She reached over and tapped the hypodermic needle. "That's just like one I found in the bathroom when I woke up."

He stared at her. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Why do you have to take them?"

He turned the syringe over in his hands. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've had to take them since I was fifteen. If I don't… well you saw happened before…"

"What happens if you stop taking them?"

He just looked at her. Her eyes widened. "Oh…" she breathed. "Wow… and no one's ever told you why?"

He shook his head. "Withholding crucial information is a way to exert control."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing," he said, looking away from her.

They sat in silence until he broke it with an outlandish question.

"Do you believe in shame?"

She gave him a funny look. "Yeah. At least, I think so."

He appeared to mull this over. "I'm not sure I do." He said nothing for a long while. Then he did something he wasn't suppose to

do… he told her about his job… and the Centre, those little details he had conveniently left out earlier.

"Why would they want me?" She spoke so softly he almost didn't hear her.

"I'm just beginning to figure that out."

"Did I do it?" she asked despondently. "Did I kill those people?"

He found it difficult to meet her eyes, so he locked his gaze on the coffee table. "Yes," he replied coarsely, massaging his left hand absently. "Most likely. It's my guess that the Centre's created you to be an assassin. But I'm not sure."

Her eyes filled with tears that brimmed over and dripped onto her sweater. "It's all been a lie," she whispered in despair. She felt as though her world collapsed. "Everything…I'm a…no…no…" She turned and buried her face in a pillow, but she didn't sob and her breathing remained even. After a while, she felt a hand on her shoulder and then she fell into darkness.

* * *

Apparently, they had disturbed the doctor for he seemed rather displeased by their sudden presence. When Jarod's genial approach failed to get them anywhere with the tight-lipped doctor, Parker stepped in and took the matter into her own hands.

"So she's amnesiac?" Parker raised a skeptical eyebrow. Jarod stood in the doorway, blocking the doctor's escape path; he looked just as cynical as she.

"Listen," Puccini cast an exasperated look in their direction, "I haven't seen Miss Micelli in weeks, but when we last spoke she convinced me that she really could not remember who I was or who she was… She claimed not to have a concept of her identity or past. When I began questioning her, she resisted, and when I tried to convince her to come see me, she hung up. That's all I can tell you."

"Are you sure that's all you can remember, Doctor?" Parker put her hands on her hips pushing her jacket to the side. Her gun flashed in warning.

Puccini eyed the weapon and Parker. "Yes, Detective. That's all that has happened. Aside from the unfortunate death of my assistant, very little has occurred around here in weeks." He turned to Jarod. "Any news on who did it?"

Jarod shook his head. "We're still working on it."

Puccini nodded and turned back to his work. "If you'll please excuse me now, I have work to do."

"That's, uh, some interesting work," Jarod commented, trading places with Parker. His eyes swept over the makeshift laboratory Puccini had set up in a small room adjacent to his office. There were cages of various sizes housing rats in various states of consciousness. Lobotomies had been performed on several of the rodents.

"Just a hobby really," Puccini said off-handedly. "I'm studying the memory center, the adding and removal of memory and its effects on the animal. You know, I often wonder what they're thinking- if they realize they're a part of an experiment or if they think this-" he waved his hand at the surgical implements scattered around with an odd smile on his lips, "is just a normal facet of their life."

"Interesting thought," Jarod replied darkly, his thoughts on the experiments he had suffered through. He felt a strange empathy for the animals trapped in the cages.

"They could be plotting against me for all I know," he continued.

"Lovely thought, Doctor," Parker interrupted. "But let's get back to Amelia."

"Amelia," Puccini sighed, "suffers from continual dissociative fugue."

"Why did she start coming to you?"

"Severe depression."

"When did the memory loss occur?"

"Approximately seven weeks ago, however, she implied that this has occurred at a less frequent rate for several years. I do not know why or how it happened to her and I doubt that she has any idea either." Puccini sighed. "It would be much easier for me just to give you her file, but unfortunately it was stolen the day of the murder. I don't have any backup copies either."

Parker was about to say something when Jarod took her arm and pulled her toward the exit.

"Thank for your trouble, Doctor," Jarod said, struggling with Parker who didn't care for him touching her. He let her go once they were out of the door, then paused and step back into the room. "Doctor?"

Puccini turned.

"We'd like to speak with Amelia's brother. Do you have any idea where I might find him?"

"I'm afraid not, Detective", Puccini said without looking up. "I wasn't aware that she had any siblings."

Jarod nodded thoughtfully and with one last look at the bizarre experiments, followed Parker down the hall.

"What was that about?" she asked him them as they stepped into the elevator.

Jarod glared back at the office they had just come from. "A psychoanalyst who breaks client privileges so quick and who performs warped experiments on rats? Something's wrong here."

"And he has seen Mario," Parker added.

"And a liar as well. Something is very, very wrong…"

* * *

**_Out of the ruins, out from the wreckage… can't make the same mistake this time… We are the children the last generation We are the ones they left behind… _**

While she slept, he sat on the edge of the couch deep in thought. He had no idea what was going on here, what the Centre wanted with her. He also beginning to question the injections he was taking- he had never questioned it before, but now that he actually thought about it, it was the Centre- or Raines to be exact- that put him on them.

He ground his teeth together and demeaned himself for being so stupid as to blindly take a drug that he didn't even know what it did. Was he really so mindless as to come when they snapped or jump when they said jump?

Staring blankly ahead, he clasped his hands together and rested them against his lips. He made a decision in that instant to go back to the Centre with Mia. However, he was not going to turn her in… not yet. He was going to find out what she was and what they were doing to him.

She stirred slightly, her face contorted in agony as though she were having a nightmare. He pulled the afghan back up on her shoulders, then picked up the last syringe and carried it back to the briefcase.

**_And I wonder when we are ever gonna change it… living under the fear till nothing else remains… _**

**_Looking for something we can rely on… There's got to be something better out there… _**

* * *

"I don't know what else to do," Jarod twisted against the seatbelt to better see Parker.

"For a genius you really are stupid," she spat at him. "Do you expect just to walk into the Centre, find the files you're not even sure exist, and then walk back out? What is wrong you!?"

He frowned at her in exasperation. "That wasn't exactly what I had planned on doing," he muttered, feeling rather like a child in her presence.

"Then what are you going to do?"

"I haven't figured that out just yet."

She snorted in derision. "If anyone is going back to the Centre it should be me. Or even Sydney or Broots."

"And you don't think that someone back there has figured out that you're not where you're supposed to be?"

She had no answer for him. "You can't go back. Figure something else out."

"Like what?"

"Just promise me you won't be that stupid."

"Gee, Miss Parker, I didn't think you cared," that old twinkle returned to his eyes.

"Promise me or I'll shoot you to make sure you don't." She was dead serious in her threat.

"Okay, I promise," he held his hands up in surrender. "I promise."

* * *

**_And I wonder when we are ever gonna change it… Living under the fear till nothing else remains… What do we do with our lives? We leave only a mark… Will our story shine like a light or end in the dark? Is it all or nothing… _**

**_We don't need another hero… we don't need to know the way home… All we want is life beyond… _**


	15. The Last Great Pretend

**Chapter 14: The Last Great Pretend**

"_You do realize what this means, don't you gentlemen?"_

_Mr. Parker squinted into the shadows trying to make out the face of the woman addressing them. Bodyguards, men in __black suits__, surrounded her as she sat at the head of a long polished obsidian table. Her long, elegant fingers with impeccably manicured nails pressed together forming a triangle in front of her. Her face always remained obscured by shadows._

"_Yes," hissed Raines with an excited smirk, "It means the removal of both Lyle and Miss Parker."_

_Mr. Parker shot his associate a dark look._

"_Not quite, Dr. Raines," the woman responded with a hint of a smile in her voice. "While I'm quite disappointed in Miss Parker- I had such high hopes for her- but she is to be left alone for the time being. I have a feeling she may prove to be invaluable later on where the Pretender is concerned."_

_Raines grumbled his displeasure in low, inaudible tones. Mr. Parker couldn't resist giving the man a triumphant sneer._

_Mr. Parker turned his attention back to the woman. "I am not sure what my daughter is up to, Madame Director, but I can assure you that she is loyal to the Centre. Whatever lead she is pursuing it is for the Centre's benefit."_

"_Oh, yes, yes, whatever, Parker," a hand waved the air dismissively. "Our people are watching her and we have it all prepared… we just need you to bring her back to the Centre." The voice paused. "Was there something else you wanted to say, Parker?"_

_Mr. Parker looked disheartened, but continued any way. "Only that I realize that Lyle has yet again ruined a Project. For that there is no redemption and I can offer no excuse for him. While I regret it has come to this, I understand that Removal is necessary."_

_The Director laughed a condescending laugh. "So quick to dispose of an undesirable offspring, are we, Parker?" The merriment faded into icy silence. "No." she said after awhile. "I will not approve Mr. Lyle's Removal… I was going to, but now I see that it would bring too much satisfaction to you and too much enjoyment to Dr. Raines. No, he may still be of some use."_

_Raines exchanged annoyed looks with Mr. Parker. The Director leaned forward and addressed the men for the final time._

"_As it stands, if I were either of you, I would concentrate on completing my own assignments rather than worrying about others completing theirs. You both know what is expected of you. Project Dominatus is to be ready for initiation by midnight on the thirteen of the month. You have barely four days left."_

_Before either Mr. Parker or Mr. Raines could say anything further they were escorted out of the building by two large men in black and taken back to Blue Cove and the Centre._

* * *

Miss Parker's phone rang causing Broots to back startled into a end table which sent a lamp tumbling to the floor.

Miss Parker shot him a patronizing glance.

"What?" she answered rudely, fully expecting it to be Jarod on the line.

"Hello, Angel, how's Japan?"

"Daddy?" Parker looked stunned. She turned to Sydney with her mouth slightly open. He looked as surprised as she. Parker faltered momentarily before regaining her composure. "Fine," she clipped, "except that I'm not overly fond of the cuisine…reminds me too much of Lyle."

Mr. Parker laughed an all too jovial laugh. "Yes, well, I'm here to save you from that, Angel. We need you back now."

"Oh?"

"Yes, well, your brother isn't getting his job done. I need you to take over the Seventh Member Retrieval. How soon can you be here?"

It took her a moment to recover. "Uh, I'm on my way."

"Good girl. See you soon."

"Parker?" Sydney glanced worriedly at Broots as he walked over to his young associate. "What is it?"

She looked up at him with a vacant expression. "We're to return to the Centre… Daddy's putting me on the Seventh Member

Retrieval."

Sydney frowned. There was something suspicious about the order and he wasn't comfortable returning to the Centre until they understood more about the current situation.

"Parker…"

Parker turned on him, fully recovered, and shot him a sharp look. "We're to go back immediately so let's get packing." She strode out of the room, leaving the two men behind.

Closing herself in the sanctuary of her bedroom, Parker tried to figure out what to do about Jarod. Absently, she stared at the cell phone laying on the nightstand. There wasn't much of choice to be made, she decided. It would be much better to end the partnership now- that way the Centre would be none the wiser, and it would be business as usual between herself and the Pretender. And that was as it should be, right? To keep as much distance between them as possible. No use in getting too close…

Parker sighed and kicked her shoes off. Her gaze kept returning to the phone as she sunk down onto the bed; she almost wished it would ring. Right before she drifted off to sleep, she wondered if she was doing the right thing in leaving her partnership with Jarod behind.

Had she stayed awake just five minutes more, she would not have missed the Pretender's call.

* * *

_**So you extend to fix the mess of another… You weren't there from the start but it's left its mark on you… **_

"Are you sure about this?" She sat on the edge of the bed watching him go through his belonging with the ferocity of a wild cat.

"There's no other choice."

"Wouldn't it be better if I just went back on my own?"

"No!" He turned on her with a reproachful glare. She stared at him as though he had slapped her. "No," he said more gently. "Not until I find out what's going on."

"But if we get caught," she went on cautiously, "won't you get in trouble? What if they hurt you because of me?"

He gazed her with a scowl. "And? I can take care of myself. What do you care anyway?"

Her response was inaudible. He went back to his rummaging with increased fervor.

"Anyway," he said, talking to fill the silence, "We won't get caught. I know the Centre inside and out. Besides," he shrugged and pulled out some garments that had been hidden in the back of a drawer. "It's not like we're going to break in or anything. We're going to walk through the front doors."

"What about me?"

"You're going to walk in on my arm," he smiled a reflective smile at the feminine clothing in his hands. He turned and tossed the clothing at her. "Here… try this on."

He was waiting for her when she stepped out of the bathroom. He walked over to her and smoothed out the wrinkles in the satiny garment. A slight smile kissed his lips.

"Good fit," he murmured, motion for her to turn. As she did, he nodded in satisfaction. "Nice."

She studied the form-fitting, sleeveless Cheongsam with delicate red blossoms vining across the deep black silk. The dress had a rounded hemline the fell gently above her knees.

"It's beautiful," she said, looking back at him. "Whose is it?"

His eyes became clouded and his face expressionless. "No one's."

"Oh." She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and was pleasantly surprise by her appearance. She traced the pattern of the blossoms on the waist, admiring the delicate stitching.

"Come on," he snapped. "We've a lot to do before returning."

She looked up to see he was already walking away. "Lyle?"

He stopped in the doorway as she slipped up behind him. She wiggled her way in front of him, her gray eyes searching his blue ones. There was a strange, lost look nestled in his expression- much like the look he criticized her for.

"Lyle?" There was puzzlement in her voice and worry in her eyes.

He stared hard at her for a long while. When he finally, spoke his words came out choked as though they were being forced through constricted vocal chords. "Don't call me that."

Confusion disfigured her features briefly, and then her face softened. She smiled morosely. "Okay," she said quietly.

She reached out and gently cradled his cheek until he walked away.

* * *

_**This fractured man mends the broken girl… She clings to her fix 'cause it's the only thing she knows…**_

"I just don't like the sound of this, Parker. Something is not right."

Parker slowly turned to face the doctor. There were several suitcases lined up by the door in preparation for their departure.

"Look, Syd," she said almost defensively, "apparently, my father is unaware that I've been anywhere but Asia. So let's not make an issue out of this. We're going to go back and pretend like nothing unusual has happened. Got it?"

"Oh, boy, I hope no questions me," Broots muttered, unaware that he had spoken aloud until he saw Parker and Sydney staring at him. He gave them a sheepish look and busied himself with fooling with the tags on the suitcases.

Sydney approached Parker. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm going to say it anyway. Your father could very well be setting you up. You don't know that he doesn't know about this… little diversion."

Parker looked away from his intense gaze, contemplating his words. She knew he was looking out for her, but…

"If you can't trust family who can you trust?" she spat back the words that she had been told many times over. "And my father is all the family I've got."

"Well, there is Lyle," Broots offered helpfully. He instantly regretted opening his mouth.

"Broots!" she barked in warning. Turning back to Sydney she said, "Look I appreciate your concern, but I'm going back."

"At least let Jarod know."

"What?" Parker's jaw dropped. "How did you-"

The psychologist merely shrugged.

"He doesn't need to know." With that, she stormed from the room out into the hallway spewing curses.

Broots stood up and nervously wiped his sweaty palms on his pants legs. "What do we do now? You really think Mr. Parker would set his own daughter up?"

Sydney sighed; the stress of worrying about both Jarod and Parker was beginning to wear on him. "Yes, Broots, I do. As for what we do, we go with her. And stay close."

"What about Jarod?"

"I wouldn't worry about him right now."

Broots watched the older man walk away in the direction Parker had headed. He almost wished he had a way of contacting Jarod and letting him know what was going on- maybe he could figure something out.

"Oh, who am I kidding?" he said to himself. "Why would Jarod help any of us?"

He was about to leave the room, when a phone rang. Broots whirled around looking for the source of the ringing. Then he found Miss Parker's cell phone, abandoned on the table in the living area of the suite. In her fury, she had left without it.

Broots picked it up ready to return it to its owner, but the ringing was insistent. He wasn't sure what to do, answer it or let it go. Miss Parker would surely have his head on a silver platter if she caught him answering her phone. On the other hand, what it if the call was really important?

Against his better judgment and after nervously making sure no one was around to see him, he silenced the annoying ring.

"Hello?"

* * *

_**We could be perfect one last night and die like star-crossed lovers when we fight and we can settle this affair and then we'll solve the mystery of laceration gravity…**_

At half-past noon, the doors of the impenetrable Centre opened, allowing its most sinister power-hound in. He was met with gasps for no one had expected him to return so soon. Rumor had it that he was on a Retrieval and was not due back for a few more days. Those unfortunate enough to cross his path quickly scurried out of the way.

She wanted to ask him why they ran from him for she could not understand, but she kept silent, as he had instructed.

They were heading down a long dark hallway when a frightening-looking man who was hooked up to a portable oxygen tank intercepted them.

_**This riddle of revenge- please understand it has to be this way…**_

He paced the floor anxiously, his conscience pestering him with the weight of the decision he was about to make.

He had worked so hard to gain her trust and she was not one to give that trust easily. He had never allowed himself to even hope for the chance to work side-by-side with her and yet it had happened. Such a small act as it was, it gave him hope that bigger things were possible. And that was what made his decision so difficult.

She had made it clear that she did not want him going back to the Centre nor did he really want to. However, he had studied the problem from every angle but had been led to only one conclusion: return to the Centre.

As far as he could see it, it was the only option. They would never get to the bottom of Project Heptagon and Amelia without going back. His predicament was in what to tell Parker.

She told him not to go back, so he wouldn't tell her… but could he lie to her? Jarod didn't think he could.

Picking up the phone, he let out a long breath and dialed her number. He hoped she would answer this time.

The phone rang and rang before someone finally answered.

_**We've only got one chance to put this at an end and cross the patron saint of switchblade fights...**_

He watched them approach and did not bother to hide his disgust of the younger man. It appeared to him that Lyle had been doing anything but what he was supposed to, judging by the Oriental girl he was escorting to his office.

Lyle raised his eyes and locked gazes with Raines staring him down until they were face to face and could go no further- Raines blocked the entrance to his office.

He could see them well now and while he addressed the younger man, he stared at the girl.

"I see you've been hard at work, Lyle," he wheezed sarcastically. His eyes narrowed as he studied the girl- there was something

not quite right… She was practically hiding behind Lyle, but he could see that she wore a short Chinese dress and her black hair was pulled back into a neat bun with blunt-cut bangs skimming her dark eyebrows.

"Yes, quite," Lyle clipped back with his usual arrogance. He didn't like the way Raines was eying Mia. He moved slightly to shield her from the man's penetrating gaze.

Raines continued to gawk at the girl. His gaze fell on her slanted eyes. A sly smile began to form on his lips.

"She's quite lovely, Lyle," he said smoothly. "And such exquisite eyes, too. I don't believe I've ever seen eyes that color before."

He arched an eyebrow and when he turned to look at her his cocky sneer froze on his face. He cursed himself for failing to hide her curiously colored eyes behind a more commonplace color.

"Yes, well, that's what got my attention in the first place," he covered efficiently. "Now," he stepped beyond Raines taking Mia along with him. "I have some things to do."

Raines snarled as he passed and Lyle couldn't resist the opportunity to give the man nasty jab.

"Do me a favor," he winked devilishly. "Put a 'do not disturb' sign on my door for me."

_**You said we're not celebrities, we spark and fade, then die by threes… I'll make you understand and you can trade me for an apparition…**_

* * *

"Broots?" Jarod looked at the phone in confusion.

"Oh… oh… my," Broots stammered. "J-Jarod? Oh… oh…hang on…"

He was gone before the Pretender could say anything.

"Jarod?" The familiar voice of Miss Parker filled his ears. He swallowed hard.

"Hello, Miss Parker, misplace your phone?" The usual playfulness in his voice was gone.

"Ha, ha," she cast an aggravated look in Broots' direction. "What do you want?"

It took him a moment to gather his courage and he pray that she would forgive him. "I'm not going back," he said, his voice devoid of it full strength.

"And?" she sensed his hesitancy but didn't question it.

"And we'll do it your way."

"Good," she said, not feeling as triumphant as she thought she would. The warning Sydney had given her and the reluctance she heard in Jarod put her on edge and filled her mind with worry. "Give me the number where I can reach you."

"Nice try," he attempted to smile. "I'll call you regularly."

"How regularly?"

"How regularly do you want me to call?"

"Twice an hour."

"Are you sure you don't want to hear from me more often?"

"Yes."

And she hung up on him.

_**Trust, you said… Who put the words in your head? Oh how wrong we were to think that immortality meant never dying…**_

* * *

Once they were inside his office, he made a quick sweep of the room and shut down the surveillance cameras.

"Can I take the wig and tape off," she asked, wincing in pain from her slanted eyes.

"Yeah, sure," he replied distractedly.

While she removed the black wig and removed the tape that kept her eyes upturned, he sat at his desk and pulled up several files on his computer.

"What's that?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder. There was an interior of a room displayed on the screen.

"Raines' office," he said. "That guy who stopped us in the hall."

"Woo, he seems like a strange one."

"You don't know the half of it."

She seated herself next to him on the desk. "So what do we do now?"

"We wait," he replied. He stood up and took his coat off before returning to his chair. "If those files on us are anywhere, they'll be in Raines' office. We'll have to watch his every move to determine the best time to get in there."

She nodded resolutely, prepared to do anything necessary to help him and completely unaware of the enormous danger they were in.

Still in the City and several hours later, Jarod, too, sat at a computer immersed in his study of Raines' sweeper team. He had mapped out the details of his plan and had spread out on the kitchen table was all the necessary materials for the pretend.

On the computer screen was a photograph of the newest sweeper- a total neophyte; a yuppie pulled from the corporate world to work in the Underworld of the Centre. It was more than Jarod could have hoped for.

The sweeper had rounder features than Jarod, a stockier build, and bleached white hair. Armed with his tools, Jarod began his transformation into Raines' new sweeper.

The assimilation into the Centre was a dangerous undertaking that took hours of planning, but even then Jarod knew that this pretend could very well be his last…


	16. Sins Of The Centre

**Chapter 15: The Sins of the Centre**

_**Sweet dreams are made of this… Who am I to disagree? I travel the world and the seven seas-- Everybody's looking for something…**_

_**Some of them want to use you… Some of them want to get used by you… Some of them want to abuse you… Some of them want to be abused…**_

_**Everybody's looking for something...**_

**_-"Sweet Dream" by the Eurhythmics_**

_**

* * *

**_

Broots sat in front of his computer searching for something he wasn't convinced existed. Miss Parker had him scouring the Centre's database again for anything on Project Heptagon.

He sighed in frustration- nothing was turning up, not even the tiniest bit of information. But nothing wasn't good enough for Miss

Parker- she wanted something.

Sydney quietly observed Miss Parker's troubled pacing. He knew her well enough to know that the pacing wasn't just from the lack of information on Project Heptagon; it was mostly from leaving Jarod behind. Though she might never admit it, he knew that it mattered to her what Jarod thought. And Jarod did not take being lied to well.

"Parker," he said finally, "why don't you sit down. Pacing will not speed up the process any."

She did not sit, but she did stand still.

"Raines' office," she said in reply to an unasked question.

Sydney gave her a questioning look.

"Come again?"

"The DSAs and files on Heptagon must be in Raines' office."

"That's a good possibility," the doctor said thoughtfully. "But there's a problem."

"What?"

"Getting into Raines' office."

Parker didn't respond. She frowned and began to pace again.

"How _are_ we going to get in there?" Broots asked glancing between them.

Parker's ringing cell phone interrupted any further conversation.

"Yes?"

"So how are things going?" Jarod's voice was uncharacteristically subdued, almost as though he was calling from inside a library.

"Where are you?" The question came out as an unintended accusation, but she made no apologies for it.

There was a pause. "Where do you think I am?"

She ignored the reply, apprehension forcing her words out in harsh coldness. "Have you found anything yet?"

"No," he answered. There was a long pause and Parker could hear muffled voices.

"Where are you?" she asked again.

"We're not going to find anything unless someone goes back to the Centre," he said. "Let me go back."

"No," she said, putting a hand to her forehead and rubbing her temple.

"Where are you?" he asked, turning the inquisition on her. "Are you at the Centre?"

She paused briefly, internally conflicted. "No. Are you?"

"Have Sydney and Broots gone back?"

"If you haven't found anything, why are you calling?"

"You told me to call twice an hour."

"Right," she muttered. "I'm hanging up now."

No sooner had she put her phone away did she hear the familiar wheezing of…

"Raines," she pasted on a cheesy smile for him while conveying her contempt with her eyes.

"Miss Parker," he nodded, ignoring the other two men in the room.

"Is there something you want?"

"No," he replied, turning to leave again. "I just came to tell you…"

"What?"

"Lyle's returned."

Meanwhile, Jarod cut the connection and slipped the phone into his pocket. He frowned, racked with guilt over his dishonesty. But he wasn't given a chance to worry about it.

"Tony."

Jarod turned and looked at Willie, Raines' head sweeper.

"Yo?"

"We're needed."

Jarod nodded and followed Willie. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the overly polished walls of the hallway. With platinum-blond hair, green eyes, and prosthetic nose and jaw-line there was no trace of the runaway Pretender left.

* * *

_**Time, what a cruel time… When a master is on your ground… He wants you to do what he wants like an animal… I want to go out of this time…**_

He caught himself dozing off again. Three hours had passed since their arrival and it seemed that Raines had not reported his return to Mr. Parker. More curious still was the fact that Raines seemed to have disappeared completely. He was not in his office, nor the halls, nor the sublevels.

He rubbed his eyes for a moment, fighting the sleep that tried to overtake him. He sat there for several seconds with his hand over his face, before pushing his chair back from the counter. His gaze slid over the contents of his desk and came to rest on the picture frame on the upper right hand corner. He frowned and picked up the frame.

If he remembered correctly, there used to be a picture of Lucy, his secretary, in the frame. A post-it note covered the front.

Removing the note revealed Mei, but it was the message he was interested in.

**Missing someone? You might try looking for her in Japan…**

**Happy hunting, baby brother.**

**-MP**

_Parker… _He crumpled the note in his fist, tossed the paper onto the desk and discarded the picture in the trashcan.

Muffled shrieks made him turn.

She was lying on the couch against the wall, sweating profusely beneath his jacket. Her face was contorted by unspoken horrors- she was trapped in a nightmare.

Instantly, he was by her side, gently coaxing her out of the horror of the dream. It was difficult to wake her, but slowly she broke through to the conscious realm. Reality, however, came a bit too abruptly for her and she sat bolt upright, eyes even wider in fear and lungs gasping for air. He clutched her shoulders and held her at arms length. She stared at him with unseeing eyes as he tried to establish eye contact with her. His mouth was moving, that she could see, but she could not hear what he said.

Eventually, sight and sound comprehension returned to her and she fell against him. His body went rigid as every muscle tensed. His heart rate increased in correlation to her tears. Uncomfortable, he tried to get up- to get away, but she clung to him tightly.

"What were you dreaming about?" he finally managed after finding his mouth had suddenly gone drier than cotton.

"T-t-the..mur…death," It was impossible to get the words out. "I didn't do it! I couldn't have! They have to be some else's memories. I'm not a killer!"

If there was anything to say that would have consoled her, it escaped him for he sat there feeling utterly useless. Then something flashed into his mind, something from years ago that still bothered him frequently.

"Shhh," he whispered, raising his hand to her head. "It's okay… you'll get used to the dreaming. You'll see. It won't be long before you'll be able to ignore it."

* * *

_**Tears after gloomy fears… You don't know where you are… Why you are there on a battlefield… Is it a punishment? You want to go out of this time…**_

He knew that he would not instantly be allowed into Raines' innermost lair since he was a rookie, but he had hoped for a little more than simply standing guard while the infamous man attended to business. However, this job did allow him to get a sense of

Raines' routine. From Willie, Jarod gathered that the doctor descended into the Centre's nether regions at the same time every day and was gone for hours. But what he did while he was down there, even Willie did not know.

He was alone, totally alone- there were not even cameras in this hall- so he checked in with Parker. She was short and terse with him, more so than usual it seemed. After the call, Jarod felt immensely unsettled; their conversations were pointless with words that meant nothing and questions that were never answered. Every call was an exactly the same as the last, though her questioning where he was seemed to be more frequent. He worried that she suspected something, then worried that there was something she wasn't telling him.

_**Time, what a cruel life for the innocents to survive… They don't know why they are in jail… They don't understand… They want to go out of this time…**_

They passed in the hallway late that evening as she headed to her father's office. She would not have paid him any attention had it not been for the way he openly stared at her. She despised Raines' thugs and was about to reprimand this new one for ogling at her, but something made her stop.

His hair was white and spiked and he wore two earrings in each ear. His build was wide and husky and his eyes were an intense green. He wore all black just like the other freaks roaming around, but… she knew him…

Somehow…

They stood there for seconds that seemed like hours. She couldn't place his face or name… but she knew him, she was sure of it… there was something so familiar…

They passed and were headed on to their respective destinations, but they cast lingering looks at each other over their shoulders.

She knew him… and he knew she had lied to him…

* * *

He was growing impatient and he did not deal with impatience well. This task was getting tedious- it would take days of observation to properly track Raines' movements. He didn't have days; he might not even have hours.

He leaned forward and entered in some information into the computer. In every chain, there was a weak link; he simply had to find it. While searching the files on Raines' crew, he reclined in the chair once more. A weight applied pressure to his right shoulder.

He gritted his teeth. She refused to stay on the couch, apparently preferring his shoulder to the sofa cushion. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he saw her head nod and her eyes droop sleepily.

The tension in his shoulder traveled up his neck tightening the muscles in his back. However, he didn't notice the pain because he had found the weakest link finally. Raines had employed the services of a mouse of a man, a Thomas Waterford, to act as an informant of sorts. This prompted an amused chuckle from Lyle. He was familiar with Waterford for he had employed the man very briefly himself when he first returned to the Centre. Waterford was the least competent member of the Centre staff; he made

Broots look like a genius. He wondered briefly why Raines' would have troubled with such a person. Whatever the reason, this boring process of tracking Raines' moves was about to be speeded up.

He twisted in his chair slightly, reaching across with his left hand and lightly touching her cheek. She stirred and drowsily opened her eyes.

"What?" She blinked at him, sitting upright and yawning.

"I've got something to take care of."

"Are you leaving?"

He stood up and walked to the center of the room. He stared at the layout of the office as though it was unfamiliar to him. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as his gaze landed on the door to the bathroom.

"Come here."

She walked over to him, still wrapped in his jacket. "Yeah?"

"I need you to get out of sight."

"Where?"

He bit back a snarl and looked around the room again. He jerked his head toward the walk-in closet.

"There."

She slipped into the closet without further comment, but didn't close the door immediately. She watched him close out the programs on his computer and pick up the phone. When he glanced in her direction, she hastily shut the door, but a few moments later cracked it open enough to see out. Before long, there was a knock at the door and a wispy, timid man entered the office.

He spoke to the man for a period while casually reclined in his seat, then he rose to his feet and his tone changed. He circled the

quivering man with a deadly attitude. During a pass by the door, she saw him lock it… and the man saw it, too. He was asking questions, but getting no answers. He was getting agitated. She saw him glance in the direction of the closet and frown. Then both men disappeared from her line of sight.

Minutes ticked by and she became concerned. More time passed and she could take it no longer. Cautiously, she crept from her hiding place. There was no sign of either of them.

He exited the bathroom wiping his hand on a towel. He paused at the door and looked back into the room.

_That was messier than I thought it would be, _he thought slightly aggravated. He made a mental note to get his Cleaners at a later time and tossed the crimson-stained towel back inside, making sure to close the door firmly behind him.

She was hiding behind his desk when he came out.

"What are you doing?"

She stood up quickly and spun around to face him. Clutched in her hands was the disposed picture frame.

"I got worried when you left," she explained, pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. She held the frame out to him. "Who's this?"

He frowned at the picture of Lucy. "No one important," he replied taking it away from her and putting it back in the trash.

"She must have been someone important."

He stared at her perplexed. "What difference does it make?" he snarled.

She turned away from him with a wounded look.

"Oh, come, Mia," he said, unnerved, "I didn't mean it... Let… let… I need your need help."

Once he had her attention again, he moved to computer and motioned her over. Then he began to outline his plan to infiltrate

Raines' office based upon the information his lackey had so "cooperatively" offered.

* * *

"Broots, hit the computer," Parker said taking up residence in Sydney's chair.

Broots almost rolled his eyes. "Come on, Miss Parker," he entreated. "You've had me comb through the Centre's systems several times. I'm telling you there's nothing there."

Parker arched her eyebrows at his sudden bravado. "Let's not whine about it now," she said pointedly. "I want to find information on all of Raines' goons. See if there's one for a big guy with bleached hair."

"Oh," he swallowed. "Yeah… okay."

While Broots searched, Parker waited impatiently for Jarod's next call. Sydney busied himself with other work.

Still no call came and Parker checked her phone a few times for a malfunction. But everything was operating flawlessly.

"Miss Parker?" Broots called diffidently. "I think I found something."

"What?" She stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder. He squirmed as her nails dug into his shoulder.

"This him?"

"Bingo." Her eyed scanned the file. There was little more than standard information on "Tony"- he was a recruit with no prior clandestine experience. She frowned at the photo of Tony. While he looked just the same as he did when she saw him the first time that sense of familiarity was absent.

"That's it?"

Broots shrugged, wincing from her grip. "Yeah, apparently he hasn't gotten much of a record yet."

"So old Wheeze Bag is so hard-up for additions to his freak show that he has to get some clueless sucker?"

"Perhaps he only appears to be a 'clueless sucker'," Sydney chimed in. "Perhaps Raines' doesn't care for his true record to known."

"Perhaps…" Parker's frown deepened. She couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right about this guy. An idea based upon Sydney's remark began to take shape.

"I think it's time I had a little chat with good old Tony."

Broots glanced worriedly at Sydney as Parker walked away.

"Parker," Sydney shared Broots' concern. She stopped and turned her head. "Be careful."

Parker gave a slight nod and left the room.

The two men sat there in silence until Broots voiced a troublesome thought.

"Jarod didn't call."

Sydney looked at him and frowned. He tapped his bottom lip with his finger.

"No, he didn't, Broots. No, he didn't."

* * *

He wasn't paying attention to his job. Or rather he wasn't paying attention to the real reason he was there. His surface job was mindless enough and allowed him too much time to think.

She lied to him and he couldn't understand why. He was hurt, incredibly hurt, and just a little angry. While he stewed over her deceit, his conscience kicked.

_What right do you have to be angry? You're doing the same thing to her…_

He grumbled internally, arguing the ethics of lying for a greater good. And then he saw her headed straight for him. He panicked before remembering that she couldn't recognize him.

_Just play it cool…_

She stopped in front of him just a few feet away, shoulders square, hands in fists on her hips, and feet shoulder width apart. She was the picture of intimidation.

"I wanna see Raines," she snapped.

The shaking of his head was imperceptible. "Sorry. Docta Raines ain't takin' no visitors right now. You gotta come back later when he is."

"And. Who. Are. You?"

His periphery vision picked up her hand moving briefly to her jacket pocket and returning to her hip.

_What is she doing?_

"Tony." he shot back, matching her suspicious tone. "Who. Are. You?"

"Your worst nightmare if you're not careful."

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down. But she wasn't about to be deterred.

"So, Slick, what are you in for?"

He shrugged, trying to keep it together. She had zeroed in on him for a reason, he knew, for she wouldn't waste valuable time if there weren't a purpose.

"Not sure what you mean."

"I mean, how'd you get this gig?"

"The price was right, if ya know what I mean."

"Mmmhmm."

She was beginning to run out of things to ask him and she was worried that Jarod might call while she was in public. If she missed his call, it would be a while before he called again.

"Where's Willie? He still around or did you replace him?"

"He's still here."

"Oh, yeah? For how long?"

He was unshakable and she had to admire that. A lesser person would have cracked by this time.

"Guess until they make him a ghost," he replied.

The corner of her mouth turned up slightly at the corners. He had just made a fatal slip by the ghost reference. It confirmed her suspicion that he had worked in the Centre before- a novice wouldn't have known about the Centre's habit of making ghosts out of people.

"Well, tell that ghost of a boss of yours that I want to see him." She turned away from him, slipping her hand back in her pocket.

"Will do, Miss Parker."

She was too far away to hear him call her by the name she didn't give him.

* * *

"Miss Parker!" Broots practically ran to greet her when she returned.

"I take it all went well," Sydney said, not bothering to get up.

She rolled her eyes skyward and took a small recorder out of her jacket pocket. "I don't know about well, but it went," she replied.

Turning to Broots, she tossed the recorder to him. "Can you run a voice analysis on this Tony?"

He gave her a puzzled look and turned the recorder over in his hands. "Sure, but I have to have something to check it against.

What are you looking for?"

"I think 'Tony' has worked for the Centre before. See if you can find a match with anyone."

"Okay," Broots listened to the conversation Parker had recorded. "It's going to take a while… I'm not sure how long…"

Parker resumed her pacing while Broots began the slow process of checking voice patterns. Sydney watched her for a while, but found the repetitive walking to be maddening.

"Parker," he said suddenly. "Have you given any thought to Lyle's return? Do you think he's located the Seventh Member?"

"Lyle?" Parker stopped and frowned. Truthfully, she had forgotten all about her brother. "I doubt it. He would have been buzzing around here gloating if he had. I don't know why he's back so soon, but he doesn't have her yet."

It was nearly three hours later before Broots identified the voice by accident. He was searching for a clip of Sam, Miss Parker's sweeper, speaking, but was having trouble locating one when he stumbled across a file of Jarod. He went to close the file out, but unintentionally clicked the button to analyze it.

His eyes went wide with surprise.

"Miss Parker!!"

"You've got something?" Instantly she was next to him.

"You're not going to believe this!" he exclaimed. "I was searching for a sound file on your sweeper Sam and…"

"Short version, Broots!"

"Oh, right… sorry… Anyway, the voice pattern of Tony matches Jarod voice pattern! Granted he's disguised his voice and all, but…"

"What…" her voice was low and very still. The air around them suddenly turned cold.

"Broots," Sydney joined them by the computer. "Are you positive it's Jarod?"

He nodded fervently. "Absolutely."

"He lied to me…" she continued in quiet disbelief. "He's in the Centre…"

Sydney and Broots looked at her.

"I'll kill him."

"Parker," Sydney went to her side. "Let's not get carried away."

"Carried away?" she spat, looking him straight in the eye. "He lied to me."

"And?" The doctor was unmoved by this news. "You lied to him as well."

She was rendered speechless for a moment. Her expression then hardened. "That's different."

"Is it?"

"Save the lecture, Freud!"

Her hand went over her stomach; she could feel her ulcer beginning to flare up again.

_Jarod…!_

* * *

_**You were under the impression that when you were walking forward you'd end up further onward…**_

_**But things ain't quite that simple… You got altered information… You were told to not take chances…**_

As he approached the office doors, he glanced up and down the hall and gave the surveillance camera an officious smirk. He knocked on the door as though he actually expected someone to answer.

He knew that Raines was away from his station and buried somewhere beneath the Centre and that was why he was there. He also knew that Willie had not locked Raines' office.

_I'll have to make sure to send Willie a __thank you card, _he chortled.

Once inside, he locked the doors, shut down the cameras, and searched the office for any other bugging devices- he hoped that he found them all. A ventilation shaft loomed above him. He studied it quickly before shoving Raines' desk chair underneath it and using it as a stepladder. The screws were easily loosened and cover came off with little effort.

With his help, Mia climbed out of the shaft. However, the chair was on wheels and not sturdy enough to hold both their weights.

The chair slid at a sharp angle, jilting them roughly to the floor.

The humor of the situation struck her and she started to giggle. He did not find the circumstances amusing in the least. She quickly clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the chuckles when she caught sight of the looking he was giving her.

He picked himself up, immensely relieved that no cameras had been able to catch the humiliating scene. Grabbing her elbow, he helped her to her feet and found himself gawking at her legs.

"Are those my pants?"

She looked at him guiltily, then down at the folds of material that pooled at her feet. She had found a pair of his running pants in his closet and had modified them to fit her… sort of. The drawstrings were so drawn out that the ends hit her knees. "Yeah, a skirt

really isn't the best thing to be snooping in."

"I'm not sure that's much better," he muttered, then shook his head distractedly. "Let's get this done and get out of here."

_**My jackets gonna be cut slim and checked with a touch of seer-sucker with an open neck…**_

The search began neatly enough, but disintegrated into a ransacking hunt. While he was looking for concealed areas, she was scouring the more obvious locales. Accidentally she jerked a file cabinet draw too hard and too fast; it pulled along with it a panel of the wall behind the cabinet.

"Bobby?"

He stopped what he was doing and came over to her.

"Good girl," he whispered reverently, pulling the filing cabinet out from the wall. There was indeed a hidden locker behind it. He worried that it would need a key or combination, but as fortune would have it, neither were required. The "door" was not a door at all but rather a metal envelope that was behind the wallboard. He ripped it from its hiding place with trembling hands. His mouth watered in anticipation of what was in the metal folder. It had better be good…

_**I've had enough of living… I've had enough of dying… I've had enough of smiling… I've had enough of crying… I've squandered and I've saved… I've had enough of childhood… I've had enough of graves…**_

She watched him empty the contents of the folder with an intensity she had never seen before. Seven discs, six black files, and a red file fell into a heap on the desk. A slow exultant smile spread over his features and he turned to her.

"You're a very, very good girl," he extolled, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her close. Shocking both her and himself, he kissed her before returning his attention to their treasure.

Crimson flooded her fair skin and her hands rose to her lips. She stared at him, but he was already consumed with the contents of the files.

Their celebratory mood quickly soured.

"Here," he said darkly, shoving the DSAs at her. "Put them somewhere."

Unsure of what to do with them, she hid them in the large pockets of her pants.

"What's wrong?"

"It's your file," he replied, holding the document out to her.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She looked afraid. "No," she shook her head feverishly. "No, you read it."

He nodded slightly and scanned the papers, then closed the file and caught her gaze.

_**Get a job and fight to keep it… Strike out to reach a mountain… Be so nice on the outside but inside keep ambition**_…

He cleared his throat, uncertain how to begin. It wasn't in his nature to sugarcoat catastrophic news, yet he felt badly that there was no gentler way break it to her.

"It says," he purposely avoided her eyes. "It says that you were part of an experiment to create the perfect killer. Raines created a serum that produced a sub-personality." He picked up the folder again and read directly from the source. "_The injections produced a sub-personality- a personality that dwelt independently of the Primary personality. This sub-personality was blank and primed for programming while the Primary personality was left intact. The sub-personality takes over as principal only after injection." _He glanced up at her, but looked away quickly. "Basically it says that the sub-personality could be programmed to carry out hits without the subject being aware it. Murders could be committed without the subject retaining any memory of the action."

"Why?" Her sad gaze remained locked on her feet.

"It only gives vague information- the main file on the Project must be somewhere else. But if I had to guess, I'd say it would be to create the perfect assassin. If you were caught, you'd pass any lie detector test, no hypnosis could surface any recollection. It's brilliant, really." His voice caught and he sounded almost apologetic.

"Why me?"

"Your disposition, your… primary personality. You're perfect… sweet, compassionate, honest, dependable… no one would ever suspect you. You'd be seen as the victim, not a killer."

"How… why… I don't understand…"

She looked weak as though she was about to pass out. Tears trickled down her otherwise expressionless face. He stood close; watching her, ready to catch her if she fainted.

He cleared his throat again. "Your dad had a drug habit, I assume."

"Yes…" her voice trailed off. "How did you know?"

"He must have gotten pretty desperate while he was in jail. The file said that your Dr. Puccini visited him in prison and made a deal with him. You for cocaine. The Centre's pretty much all powerful; it could make that happen…"

She inhaled sharply, closing her eyes and bringing a hand to her mouth. Her shoulders heaved with every breath. He stood by helplessly, not wanting to further upset her, but he knew she had a right to know the rest.

"Puccini is a Centre operative obviously," he continued quietly. "The couple you stayed with during the trial and your mom's subsequent hospitalization were also with the Centre. They sent you to a hospital when you were ten?"

"Yeah," she nodded with her eyes still closed. "I had a curved spine."

"No, you didn't and it wasn't a hospital you went to… it was the Centre…" He turned away from her and cursed. When he turned back, anger was etched in his features. "On the upside," he said acerbically, "you _were_ the only achievement. The Centre planned on making seven perfect assassins, but you were the only success. Congratulations."

She remained very still; reeling from the nightmare she would never wake from. An arm slipped around her shoulders as he pulled her close to him. Her tears soaked the costly silk of his shirt.

_**Don't cry because you hurt them… Hurt them first, they'll love you… There's a millionaire above you and you're under his suspicion…**_

In time she settled seeming almost accepting of the lot she's been dealt. She looked up at him with a tear-stained face and wet eyes.

"What about you?" she asked. "Is your file here?"

As always, she was more concerned about others. _How sickly ironic, _he thought, _that she reminds me so bloody much of Jarod…_

"Yeah," he said, having forgotten the other reason why they were there. "It's here."

He knew his file was a Red File; this wasn't what he was looking for. He was looking for documentation of the injections he was fated to take. Handing the file over to her, he began to rifle through the others.

He turned back to her after finding nothing on the table to appease him. She was staring at the file that was open in her hands, but his attention was glued to the separation in the folder's cover. He snatched it from her and tried to peel the folder apart, but without that crucial thumb the task was impossible. Without being asked, she took it from him and slid her fingernail into the partition. The red cover fell away revealing that Lyle was not the Red file he believed himself to be but rather a Black/Red file.

A chilling passage echoed in his head from the file on Mia that his father had given him: "_Fatal errors occurred in project members one through five in the initial preparation stages. The Sixth Member survived, but was ultimately considered a failure due to personality instability..."_

_**I've had enough of dancehalls… I've had enough of pills… I've had enough of street fights… I've seen my share of kills… I'm finished with the fashions and acting like I'm tough… I'm bored with hate and passion… I've had enough of trying to love…**_


	17. God Knows I'm Good

**Chapter 16: God Knows I'm Good**

_Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair! Down we plunge to the prison of my mind! Down that path into darkness deep as hell!_

–_Act 2 Final Lair Scene, Phantom of the Opera._

* * *

_**No one knows what it's like to be the bad man… To be the sad man behind blue eyes… No one knows what it's like to be hated… To be fated to telling only lies… **_

A globe of black pervaded the environment. Ribbons of red danced and twined through the space. Crystalline orbs floated among them casting prismatic shadows over the crimson.

The world refocused and he found himself staring at the open black file with a strip of red down its front. His vision was blurred; he could not read the papers before him any further.

_No… No… No… It can't be… This isn't right! Please… No!_

_**But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be… I have hours, only lonely… My love is vengeance that's never free…**_

They had discovered all seven members of a Project called Heptagon. The first five all ended the same… experiment failed- member terminated… Why didn't they do the same to the Sixth?

_Why didn't they do the same to me?_

_**No one knows what it's like to feel these feelings like I do and I blame you… No one bites back as hard on their anger… None of my pain and woe can show through… **_

They had not perfected the Serum and it killed the first five members. They corrected the formula and discovered that the younger the subject the more favorable the reaction. So they administered the Serum to the next innocent. The Sixth Member did not die, but there were unforeseen penalties.

_My father knew… He authorized the experimentation… He let it happen…_

_**When my fist clenches, crack it open before I use it and lose my cool… When I smile, tell me some bad news before I laugh and act like a fool…**_

The sub-personality was created and programmed for unsympathetic killing while the Primary personality was as naïve as always, but during Programming something went wrong…

During Simulations, the Primary personality began to surface while the sub-personality was still active. The sub-personality was much stronger than the Primary and fought against the reemergence. The subject suffered through the same violent tremors and seizures that the others had, even flat-lining for a few seconds on several occasions. In a brash attempt to salvage the Sixth Member, the subject was again injected with the Serum. Within the hour, the subject stabilized and began breathing unassisted again.

Though fated to forever take injections of the Serum, the Project had been saved…

_**If I swallow anything evil put your finger down my throat… If I shiver, please give me a blanket- keep me warm, let me wear your coat… **_

The subject was returned to its former environment. Soon after the homecoming, the real problems began. The Sixth Member started to exhibit a brutal change of behavior. The subject was suddenly malicious and abusive, both to animals and humans- no longer identifying on any level with his victims. The once socially active subject withdrew significantly from human relations, showed an increase in narcissistic and tyrannical tendencies, was prone to sudden, sadistic bouts of rage, and yet suppressed most of the psychotic inclinations behind a temporary semblance of normalcy.

In the last psychiatric exam the Sixth Member submitted to, Dr. Viktor Puccini reported that the once loving child now fit the profile of psychopath and was diagnosed with psychotic personality disorder. Shortly after analysis, the subject committed his first murder- that of his closest friend.

The Sixth Member was deemed a failure and was left behind while attention was turned to the Seventh creation.

_I am a monster… __**Their**__ monster…_

_**No one knows what it's like to be the bad man… To be the sad man… behind blue eyes…**_

* * *

_We tried to tell you… We always said you were a mistake… and know you know the Truth… heh, heh, heh… You have indisputable Truth… we told you so, we told you so… nah, nah, nah!_

_**Bound at every limb by my shackles of fear… Sealed with lies through so many tears… Lost from within, pursuing the end… I fight for the chance to be lied to again…**_

_Why? Why?_ Why him? Why not Parker instead of him? What did he do? What could he have possibly done?

Questions twisted with contemptuous insult speared his mind and dug in its razor-sharp talons. The image of the men who had posed as his father formed before him- the real Mr. Lyle and Mr. Parker…

Had Mr. Lyle known who Puccini was? What did he sell him to the Centre for? A new tractor? Dogs?

_**You will never be strong enough… You will never be good enough… You were never conceived in love… You will not rise above…**_

And what of his birth father? Of Mr. Parker? Of course, he was aware of all this. He knew from the moment his son was born what would happen to him and not only did he not stop it he approved the experimentation.

His mind reeled as images of the past zoom by him with lightening speed. The ground tilted at a staggering angle as memories of all the times Mr. Parker tried to have him terminated invaded him. Was it really because what he had done was so terrible or was it because he wanted to rid himself of his own past.

Bile scorched his throat and unbridled rage and hate churned within him. He was blinded by now, unable to see anything but red.

He was beleaguered by the unfairness of all. A pounding drummed mercilessly at his temples. His hands went to either side of his head, applying as much pressure to the throbbing as possible. Dampness wet his cheeks.

The file fell and landed facedown at his feet, scattering its contents all around.

_**They'll never see… I'll never be… I'll struggle on and on to feed this hunger burning deep inside of me…**_

Visions of his and Parker's birth appeared before him, unwelcome and uninvited. He saw his mother and he saw…

_Raines!_

Strings of curses coiled through his head all directed at the man in the doctor's white coat. And something else began to happen- the reminiscences that had been blurred for so long began to sharpen.

Raines had been the one to do this to him… And suddenly he was fifteen again. He saw his "counselor" sitting in a chair across from him, asking about his home life. There was nothing extraordinary to report to the nosy man; his problems were no different than any other boy his age. Apparently, the good counselor saw it differently. Two days later, he was removed from his home and taken to what he was told was a psychiatric hospital. From that point the memories dimmed again as the only clear image was Dr. William Raines holding a hypodermic needle filled with an inky fluid…

_I'll kill him… I'll kill them all… after all it is what they created me to do…_

_**But through my tears breaks a blinding light… Birthing a dawn to this endless night… Arms outstretched, awaiting me… An open embrace upon a bleeding tree…**_

She watched him quietly, understanding that he needed to deal with this on his own, but she remained within reaching distance should he need her.

When the folder fell, she cleaned up the strewn contents and read through the documents. Her eyes spilled over with fresh tears, not for herself this time, but for him.

_What would possess anyone to do these kinds of things to another human being? What would make parents sell their own flesh and blood? Why?_

She shivered with apprehension- there was a distinct feeling of evil in this place and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what the cause was.

He groaned in distress with his hands still clutching his head. He dropped to his knees, his eyes wide and moving from side to side as though he was watching a movie reel. Then he fell forward putting his forehead to the floor. She could hear him ranting, but could not understand what he was saying. Kneeling next to him, she placed a compassionate hand on his back.

The air about him changed and was filled with the sweet scent of roses. He'd forgotten that he wasn't alone. Embarrassed, he tried to regain his composure before facing her. He'd always hated for people to see him at his weakest moments- it simply wasn't permissible.

He pushed himself away from the floor, his left arm trembling as he did. His back hit the desk behind him sending a sharp sting up his spine. Still a mess internally, he finally lifted his eyes to meet hers.

The look in her eyes had changed and it frightened him.

_**How can you see into my eyes like open doors leading you down into my core where I've become so numb? Without a soul, my spirit sleeping somewhere cold… Until you find it there and lead it back home… **_

The once stormy gray turbulence that had always been in her eyes was no longer having been replaced by a calm, gentle sea of clear smoke. There was a kindheartedness in them unlike anything that had been directed at him before.

"Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!" He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes as though it would somehow remove her from his mind.

"Go away. Just get away from me!"

There was no response and for a moment he was afraid that she had actually gone. He didn't move, even though acumen told him he needed to move, to get out of there before they caught him.

_So what if they do? What does it matter anymore? _

"Bobby."

_**Wake me up inside… Call my name and save me from the dark… bid my blood to run before I come undone save me from the nothing I've become… **_

She saw surprise register in his eyes and she was surprised that he that he thought she'd left him. It greatly disturbed her to see him in such grief, but her experience with things of this nature was so limited that she didn't know quite what to do. Almost unconsciously she reached out for his left hand and pulled it away from his face. She wiggled her nose thoughtfully; she wasn't sure why she always took his left hand. Perhaps it was the way he always kept it in his pocket, hidden away from prying eyes. She could only imagine the insensitive reactions the sight of his hand must spark. She sighed miserably. Things couldn't get much worse for either of them.

She hated this place… that was about the only thing that she was sure of. She absolutely despised the Centre and everything associated with it.

_**Now that I know what I'm without… You can't just leave me… Breathe into me and make me real… Bring me to life… Frozen inside without your touch… You are the life among the dead…**_

"Get out," he said despondently. "I don't want you here."

She frowned at the change in his demeanor and it reminded her of something… Her memory suddenly jarred and she saw herself with her mother. Her mother had the same glazed-over look in her eyes and what she was saying made no sense; her movements became sporadic and her mood swung drastically between extreme highs and lows- all symptoms of a psychotic episode beginning.

She glanced worriedly at him. He tightened his grip on her hand as much as he could all the while telling her to leave him alone.

She had no intention of leaving, but she thought if she gave him some space it would help. As she stood, his mood changed.

He pulled her roughly back down, twisting her wrist in the process. There was a vicious look in his eyes and for the first time, she was afraid of him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, grabbing her hair with his right hand and pulling her head back. "You were going to leave me, just like everyone else, huh?"

She tried to reason with him, but he was beyond reason. He was suddenly above her and he quickly pinned her down, continually tugging harder on her hair as though trying to make her cry.

"Do you really think I would let you just walk out of here like nothing happened?!" he spat. "Do you think I'd allow you that chance, huh?" He pulled her off the floor just slightly and then slammed her back down violently.

Pain flooded her head, jarring loose many hidden thoughts. She gasped for air, but was unable to get any oxygen into her lungs for he was crushing her diaphragm with his forearm.

For a brief instant, the pressure was relieved and she could breathe and managed to cry.

"Bobby!"

_**All this time I can't believe I couldn't see… Kept in the dark, but you were there in front of me… I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems… Got to open my eyes to everything…**_

Her sob awakened him. He shook his head and stared at her. He saw the fear in her eyes, the pain in her features, and tears on her cheeks.

_What happened? Why is she crying?_

His gaze traveled over her and he saw his own hand tangled in her hair and his own arm compressing her throat.

_It's me…I'm the one hurting her… I'm the one she's afraid of…_

Instantly, he was off of her. He crawled back to the desk, shaking hard in disbelief. Sweat poured down his face and dampened his shirt. His head dropped to his chest and he tried to regain control of his breathing. He groaned- he could control every aspect of his life, except the rage; it had always been beyond his power.

It didn't take her long to understand that she was not the one his rage was direct at. Gradually, she lifted herself into a sitting position. Her head was still aching and her scalp was very tender. She rubbed the back of her head gently. Determining that there was no permanent damage done, she crawled on her hands and knees to him.

He didn't have to look to know that she was beside him again. He was dumbfounded that she would come anywhere near him after what he'd almost done to her. His muscles knotted in stress as they so often did when she was close. Despair finally broke him.

His tears were more than she could stand and she scooted closer to him wrapping her arms around him.

"As bad as all this is," she began softly. He looked up curiously at her. "At least we're not alone." At his puzzled look she elaborated as she wiped his face. "I mean it's terrible what they did, but at least they made two of us. We're not alone."

Her innocence and eternal optimism only depressed him more. They were alone… more alone than she could ever imagine but he couldn't quite tell her. Her hope was keeping them afloat for now; she was his only lifeline.

_**Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul… Don't let me die here! There must be something more… Bring me to life…**_

_In a corner of a painting on the wall, a tiny electronic eye was watching them and reporting everything to its boss._

"_Well, well," the Boss sneered. "It would seem that Mr. Lyle has a heart after all- a bleeding heart just like his sister. We'll have to fix that"._


	18. Vendettas

**Chapter 17: Vendettas**

_"Beware the soulless ones…"_

_"Who are the soulless ones?"_

_"The destroyers. The anti-life. The soulless ones. They will destroy you, as they destroyed my kind. As they will destroy all kinds…"_

_"Who are you?"_

_"I am pain. I am loss. I am grief. I am implacable, unstoppable! I am passion made into fury, love twisted into hate! I am _

_**VENDETTA**_

_-Vendetta: The Giant Novel, Peter David_

* * *

_**You've tried to beat me before but never again from this day… You tried to take all control but you couldn't take it away… **_

It wasn't known how much time they left; it was safest to assume they had none. He lifted his head from her shoulder and breathed in deeply, taking in her scent as he did. Out of habit, he straightened his tie.

She knew they couldn't stay where they were forever, but her heart was heavy as he pulled away. The air had turned cold and it was even colder when he stood up. She shivered in the short-sleeves she wore and a sigh escaped her lips. She felt as though she was still dreaming; everything they had uncovered was so surreal that it couldn't possibly be true. A coat was dropped into her lap.

She looked up at him, but he wasn't looking at her; he was plotting their escape. He was pale, she noticed. She saw his hands trembling. Her attention wandered and she twisted a lock of hair around her finger.

He moved even further away to the other side of the desk. She grabbed onto the edge of the desk and pulled herself up. Her head protested, still throbbing persistently, but she ignored it and walked over to him.

"Get the files," he told her as he climbed onto the desk chair and began to undo the screws in the ventilation grate once more. His tone was sharp and cold; none of his earlier weakness was evident.

Meekly, she obeyed, retrieved the files, and handed them to him. After removing the grate, he laid the files in the shaft. Just as he was stepping down from the chair, they heard voices on the other side of the door. The handle jiggled fiercely.

_They know...!_

She froze, but he flew into action. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her over to the chair. Startled, she stumbled as she stepped up. Unable to wait for her to pick herself up, he lifted her up onto the chair and all but shoved her into the shaft.

There was now a scrapping noise at the door; they were cutting through the lock. Hastily, he lifted the grate back up.

"Wait!" she cried, suddenly afraid of his intentions. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look it," he grunted as he pushed the grate into place. He couldn't take the time to tauten all the screws properly so he tightened them only as much as necessary to hold the grate in place.

"What about you?" Her voice was choked with panic.

"Forget about me." He stopped abruptly and stared at her through the vents. "Do you remember the schematics I showed you of the Centre?

She nodded.

"Follow the vents back to my office, but you have to wait before getting out. A couple of hours at least- there'll be Sweepers all over the place. The grate isn't secured, so you'll be able to push it off. There's another shaft in the lower part of the wall behind

my desk. Go down that one and follow it to the outlet. You know what to do from there?"

"Yes, but…"

"No buts! Just do as I say!"

"I'm not leaving you!"

"How many times do I have to tell you- I can take care of myself! If you do what I've told you, this all be over in a couple of days. I'll take care of business here and then I'll come get you."

He turned to leave and she was terrified that she'd never see him again.

"Bobby."

"What!?"

"Be careful."

He glance at her and a pained look crossed his face. And then he was gone.

She watched as the door was flung open and Raines' Sweepers flooded the room. Two of the burly men grabbed him brutally and pinned his arms behind his back. Flanked by Willie and Tony, Raines entered the room with a menacing, exultant sneer.

_**You won't take it away…**_

"Well, well, well," Raines clucked. "What _do _we have here?" He circled the younger man, dragging his cart behind him. "Stealing confidential documents from the Centre again, Mr. Lyle?"

He glared at him in arrogant defiance. He responded by kicking the cart as hard as he could. The cart skidded and slammed against the wall, ripping the oxygen line from Raines' nostrils. The man shrieked in pain.

Retaliation came swiftly as the back of Raines' hand struck him across the face even before he had retrieved his life-support.

"You conceited…." Raines growled obscenities before composing himself. "Careful, Mr. Lyle," he said in mock deference, "I have more than enough evidence to seek your immediate Removal."

No threat of Raines' could make him show any subservience. The hatred he had toward the man was palpable; had he been free he would have killed Raines.

_**Should I expect the worst? But I've seen the choice you make… It's written all over my face**_

_**and there's nothing left for you to break! **_

Ruthlessly, Raines' grabbed Lyle by his hair and yanked hard, but the younger man didn't even flinch. "I'm only going to ask you this once, boy," he hissed, "where's the girl?"

Fire coursed through his veins as he fought against the men restraining him. Getting as close to Raines as he was allowed, he smiled maliciously. "I. Don't. Know."

Raines shook his head, released him, and leaned away. "Mr. Lyle, you are a clever one, I must admit," he said in a patronizing tone that he knew the other man abhorred. "But you are no Pretender. You forgot to dismantle one of the cameras." He gestured to the picture that contained the spy cam. "I know your girlfriend is in the Centre. We heard your entire conversation… Now where is she?"

"What? Not clever enough to figure it out?" Lyle returned haughtily. Abruptly, he lunged for Raines, surprising the Sweepers who almost lost their grip on him. He was caught and forced to his knees, so he had to content himself with spitting on the man's shoes.

Raines glared at him rancorously.

_**How far would you go to try and take it away? How far would you go? Can't you see that I won't break! **_

"Still the same stupid boy, aren't you?" Raines stared down at him with a strange, almost pitying look. "I suppose some things never change."

He turned his back on Lyle and walked a few steps away. "You've really put me in a terrible bind, Mr. Lyle," he said resuming his business tone. "I mean really, I can't enforce your Removal- the Director has not given her approval… _yet_," he put a baleful emphasis on the last word. "But we simply cannot allow you to get away with your treachery against the Centre."

"You can't do anything," he spat defiantly, "When my father-"

Raines tossed him a scornful look over his shoulder. He turned back to his captive. "When your father what? Hears about his son's plight will come to the rescue? If that's what you think then you are greatly mistaken, _my_ boy. Your _father_ won't do a thing to help you- he never has and he never will," he shook his head in amusement, obviously enjoying the scenario. "Who do you think you are? Miss Parker?"

He gave a sharp nod to the two holding him captive. Unimpressed with Mr. Lyle's futile struggle, Raines regarded the man with cold indifference. He had waited so long for this moment…

"Willie, Tony," he barked at his lackeys. "Escort Mr. Lyle to his cell."

_**You'll see me when the fire dies- when I expose all of your lies… Your tears will become my fuel…**_

_**I'll watch the demise of you… **_

She watched the scene unfold with horror that melted into fury. Her gaze turned cold as her now steel gray eyes locked onto the person of Raines. Her mind took in every detail of the vile man and stored it away for future reference, determined not to lose the memory.

It took everything within her to remain still when they dragged him mercilessly away. His order to her echoed in her head and she tried to obey… she truly did, but…

She couldn't just leave him behind…

_**This is the end and you're gonna burn! How far will I go? Now that the path is clear… How far will I go? What you don't see you will hear…**_

* * *

Sydney glanced vigilantly at Miss Parker. Since learning of Jarod's betrayal, she had been terribly focused on finding a way into Raines' office- too focused.

"B-but, Miss Parker," Broots protested under her duress. "That kind of tracking would take days, weeks even, to do right. There's just no way to accurately trail Mr. Raines' whereabouts in an hour! Do you know what would happen if we got caught in his office?!"

Parker gave him a withering side look. "Calm down, Sparky," she snapped. "Is there some way to backtrack and find out what he's been up to in the past few weeks?"

Broots considered the matter unhappily. Finally, he shrugged weakly. "Yeah, probably," he admitted, "But even that would take hours to sort out."

She straightened up and sighed in frustration. "There's got to be some way to get those files."

Broots muttered something under his breath.

Her eyebrows raised in dark curiosity. Leaning over his shoulder until they were cheek to cheek, she stood there several seconds until he began to squirm. She clapped a titanium grip on his shoulder.

"What was that?"

The poor technician nearly swallowed his tongue. Resisting the urge to close his eyes, he timidly repeated his earlier statement.

"I said Jarod could figure this out."

Her grip tightened. "That's what I thought you said." She paused then added for good measure. "Right now, I don't want to hear that name."

Broots nodded nervously and apologetically before immersing himself in his work.

The phone began to ring.

Parker and Broots briefly froze and Sydney watched Parker with interest. He struggled to hide an amused smile at Jarod's timing.

The phone continued to ring.

Parker reached into her coat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, ignoring the phone.

Under the circumstances, Sydney had little patience with her rather childish refusal to answer Jarod's call. He eyed her sternly.

"Parker… aren't you going to answer your phone?" he prodded.

Her gaze slid over to him then back to her cigarette as she lit up.

The phone continued on insistently.

He lifted his hand to his forehead and rubbed his temples, tempted to answer the phone himself. And then there was silence.

She raised the phone to her ear, but didn't say anything immediately.

"Miss Parker?" Jarod sounded a bit confused.

Again, she didn't answer immediately. "What?"

This time it was Jarod who paused; he had never heard such venom from her directed at him before.

"I-I'm calling to check-in."

"Why?" Her words were laced with the disgust that was typically reserved for Lyle.

Jarod was baffled with her attitude. He was the one who should be upset with her, not the other way around.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, heat rising in his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"You lied to me. You are in the Centre."

Indignation welled within him, as well as bewilderment- how could she possibly know?

"I guess that makes two of us then, doesn't?" he retorted sullenly. "Why the lies, Miss Parker? Why did you feel it was necessary

to tell me you didn't go back to the Centre?"

The anger in his accusations only further infuriated her. She was irate that he should dare be upset with her when he lied as well, but what really churned and fueled her harsh tone was the guilt that stabbed her. She knew he spoke the truth…

"Don't get holier-than-thou on me, Jarod," the sentence ripped from her mouth with far more spite than she felt. "Face it, you are no more a saint than I am."

If Jarod was going to respond, she made sure that he wasn't given the chance. "If this is how you want to play. Fine. But you'd better be careful, Wonder Boy, because I won't come to your aid if you get caught. _You_ are on your own."

Broots stared at her in disbelief, unable to believe what he'd just heard. Sydney, even more disturbed, walked over to her.

"Parker," he searched her eyes imploringly, "you can't be serious about this."

She looked away from him, her face unreadable, and walked away.

"Keep searching," she told Broots.

Broots nodded, but looked to Sydney. "She's not serious," he stated, looking for confirmation from the doctor. "She's just upset,

right? She wouldn't leave Jarod if he got caught, would she?"

Sydney sighed. The situation was beyond anything he thought would ever happen. He was, in all honesty, annoyed with both

Parker and Jarod; Parker for being so stubbornly unmovable and Jarod for being equally so.

_What made Jarod think he had to be the one to return here?_

He placed a friendly hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I don't know, Broots. I really don't know."

* * *

Shadows tripped over her still body. He watched her inquisitively and with sadness for he already knew what horrible things the Centre had done to her. He also knew that she had managed to get herself involved with Mr. Lyle and he was determined to save her, to get her out of this place.

Stretching out a nervous hand, he gently brushed the hair from her face. She was in a deep slumber and obviously tormented by strange dreams. He put his palm fully on her slight shoulder and shook her. Her eyelashes fluttered but she resisted waking.

Darkness was the only thing that met her sight. She blinked several times, trying to get her bearing. Everything was hazy and she couldn't grasp the memories of what had happened. Slowly things cleared in her mind and she sat up abruptly, slamming her head into the low ceiling of the airshaft.

"Careful."

"Who's there!?" The voice put her in flight mode. She couldn't see who was speaking to her.

"Mia," the voice replied in a child-like tone.

She frowned in puzzlement. In time her vision adjusted to the dark surroundings and she could make out the outline of someone in front of her.

"Mia," the voice said again, "Need help."

She shuddered, more than a little creeped out by the things that crawled through the Centre.

"Who are you?"

"Follow."

"No way… Not until you tell me who you are."

"Angelo. Help. Come. Follow."

She searched the recesses of memory, trying to summon up any information of an Angelo, but Lyle had not spoken of him as far she could recall. She hesitated, and then a thought came to her.

"Do you know where Bobby is?" she asked eagerly. "Can you take me to him?"

Angelo paused thoughtfully, then answered. "No Bobby here."

She sighed. Obviously, he had some sort of… mental problem. She wondered if he even knew how to get out of the ventilation system.

"Yes," she argued. "Yes, he is here."

"No." Angelo was finished discussing the matter. "Come. Follow."

"I can't. I have to find Bob-," she paused, then tried a different tactic. "I need to find Mr. Lyle."

This was a name Angelo knew well. He stared at her with wide eyes that she couldn't distinctly make out. His knees pulled close to his chest and he put his hands on either side of his shaking head.

"No," his voice came out in a whisper. "No. Boogeyman. No."

She slapped her fist into her thigh. _Great. I'm never going to get anywhere with him!_

"Do you know where Mr. Lyle is?"

Angelo stopped shaking his head and looked at her intently. "Lyle," he said finally.

"Yes," she encouraged, leaning forward excitedly.

"Boogeyman."

She groaned.

"Come. Follow."

"Fine, fine," she said in resignation. "I'll follow."

And he led her through so many tunnels and passageways that she became convinced that they were going to forever wander the ventilation system of the Centre.

* * *

He found himself in the most curious of predicaments and facing even more conflicting emotions than those he had concerning Miss Parker. As one of Raines' thugs, he had the satisfaction of watching Lyle being treated like the animal he was. He did not necessarily care to admit, even to himself, just how much enjoyment he was getting out the other man's suffering. Yet he was still troubled by it. As far as he was aware, Raines and Lyle were allies; Lyle had regained a considerable amount of the ground he had previously lost and Raines needed him as a go-between to the Triumvirate. Raines' abuse of his associate mystified Jarod.

Apparently, the doctor had a power over Lyle that he had not ever realized.

They dragged him into the sublevels of the Center to an area Jarod was unfamiliar with. A series of rusted, decaying metals doors lined the dim hallway. Pegged on each one was a solitary number: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

The group halted at Door Number Six. Jarod didn't miss the look of utter terror on Lyle's face as he was physically thrown into the tiny cell.

Following Willie's lead, Jarod took up his guard post inside the cell door. His gaze swept over the chamber taking in the site of the cracked mirror on the wall, the prison-like toilet, cot, and… tub in the center of the room. Jarod's puzzlement grew.

Two Black Coats, who took over for the Sweepers who had been holding Lyle, joined the crew. It was obvious they had done this before, and judging for Lyle's reaction to them, he had been through it before as well. Jarod ventured a glance at Willie. The man's face was indecipherable and his gaze was glazed-over. Jarod fought the urge to squirm.

Lyle struggled admirably against the Black Coats, but was eventually overcome and strapped to the bed. Raines obscured Jarod's view, but he could hear his nemesis' cries.

"No!" his voice came out in gurgles- he was still fighting against them. "Gbsh… stop! No!"

Raines moved and Jarod could see his collection of hypodermic needles filled with various fluids. With their hands now free, the two Black Coats stripped Lyle of his tie, shirt, belt, and even his shoes and socks, leaving the man with only his undershirt and pants. The articles of clothing were sealed in a bag and tossed into the hallway.

"Come now, my boy," Raines shameless taunted, holding one of the syringes upright and injecting a spray into the air. "We've been over this so many times before… fighting will only make it worse."

Jarod's head spun the more he struggled to figure out what he was witnessing. He tried to remain as stoic as his partner, but a slight frown creased his forehead.

The fluid in the first syringe looked like oil. Lyle glared at Raines, still as defiant as ever and he swore the worst obscenities he could conjure up. Raines merely scoffed as he plunged the needle into his victim's forearm.

"Fight while you still can if it'll make you feel better, boy," Raines told him, picking up the next needle. "In a few minutes you'll no longer have any muscle control."

Jarod's eyebrows rose as his confusion soared. His mind brought up all the muscle-paralyzing toxins he knew of and boiled the record down to… botulism… No, that wasn't possible… was it?

In silence, Raines injected a second syringe into Lyle who had very little motor skills left. Then the mad doctor turned and walked away. After several minutes had passed, he addressed the Black Coats. "Undo the restraints and turned him over."

Once done, Raines returned to the bedside and picked up the last syringe- this one was ink-filled- and thrust it into the base of his motionless prey's skull.

"Take him to the tub."

Jarod's eyes followed them as they dragged Lyle's limp body to the tub that was filled nearly to the brim with water.

"Stop," Raines said suddenly. "Drop him."

The Black Coats stared dumbly at their master. Raines snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. They released him. The drop garnered a slight groan from Lyle.

Raines turned on Tony. "You," he pointed at Jarod. "Get over here."

Jarod obeyed and as he stood next to Raines he couldn't help but to be intimidated by the man who suddenly seemed enormous with supremacy.

"See if he's alert enough to feel anything."

Jarod looked up at Raines as though to ask how. Raines handed him a knife. If he were correct in his assumption that the injected toxin was an accelerated form of botulism, Lyle would still have some movement in his lower body. As he sliced the bottom of the

under-director's left foot, he was bemused to discover that he felt no sense of vindication. Lyle's foot jerked lethargically as the paralysis was taking over.

"That's enough," Raines told him, nodding to the other two.

Jarod returned to his post and watched as the thugs relentlessly beat the catatonic man. Of course, his morality choose this instant to nag him as it reminded him that Lyle was worth more to him alive than dead at the moment. And besides, he had promised Miss Parker that he would leave Lyle to her if he found her brother first.

_Parker…_

In that moment, he remembered his anger with her and decided that he was no obligated to keep his promise.

"Dr. Raines," he said, stepping up to the man after some internal debate. "Don't you think this is a bit extreme?"

Raines shot him a lethal glare. "Go back to your job," he hissed. "This is not your concern."

"Don't we need him to find the Seventh Member?"

"Not anymore."

"What will the Tower say?"

And then Raines turned on him. Slowly, he advanced on his newest Sweeper with a suspicious air.

"When did you suddenly sprout a conscience?"

Jarod didn't baulk or retreat, but internally he was desperately seeking a way to cover himself.

"I didn't," he replied stonily. "I just want to make sure our bases are covered."

Raines eyes him dissatisfied. Much to Jarod's relief, the man walked away.

"The tub," he barked, suddenly winded. He inhaled deeply the fresh oxygen from his tank as the Black Coats hoisted Lyle, bloody and broken, into the water.

Jarod watched as Lyle slipped underwater in a cloud of red.

* * *

The angry click of her heels against the austere tiled flooring echoed down the hall and sent anyone in the corridor scurrying away.

Her anger at Jarod had turned to intense worry. However, she had no intention of backing down from her threat. A threat that she did regret making. Feeling that she had no other recourse, she headed to her father's office to see, if by some miracle, he might actually be of some assistance. Granted, he couldn't know about the Jarod situation, but perhaps he could shed some light on the Project Heptagon.

She arrived at the door of Mr. Parker's office and was not intercepted by any grotesque creatures. She knocked repeatedly. There was no answer. Alarmed, she tried the knob. It turned easily and clicked. Shouldering the door open, she stepped into the room. Everything was still and quiet. Parker frowned.

"Daddy?" She examined the office carefully and was thoroughly baffled. There was nothing out of place in the room and least not as far as she could remember. In fact, there was nothing to indicate he had been in his office for the last several days.

She put her fists on her hips unhappily. This was the confirmation that something was defiantly awry.

_Daddy's gone… How convenient…_

She sighed and was suddenly aware of the weight of the phone in her pocket. She took it out and uttered another sigh. Her finger hovered above the redial button and she wondered if he would even answer.

* * *

_**Monday finds you like a bomb… It's been left ticking there too long… You're bleeding…**_

"Look, I've already told you everything I know!" Jarod glared up at Raines.

Raines stood above him glowering. With the chair Jarod was sitting in and Raines' cart there was barely enough room to move in the former custodial closet of the sublevel.

"That simply isn't good enough, Mr. Tony," the old man wheezed. "Are you working for Mr. Lyle?"

"No! I swear I don't know the guy!" He pulled back from Raines' putrid breath.

"Then why such concern back there?"

"I told you already."

"Tell me again."

An exasperated sigh escaped the Pretender's lips. "Rumor has it that Mr. Lyle is one of the hot shots here and since I'd _like_ a long career with the Centre, I thought it might be a bad idea for all of us to kill him!"

Raines stood back. His lips stretched out over his lips in what Jarod could only assume was a smile. His heart raced and tension knotted in his back from prolonged exposure to the Centre. The need to run was building in his system.

"I like you, Mr. Tony," Raines said with false niceness. "And because of that I'm going to give you one more chance to tell me the truth about your association with Mr. Lyle."

"I told-"

Raines shushed him into silence. "No, no," he said bowing slightly. "I want to give you a moment to consider how you answer."

And with that he exited the closet.

_**Some days there's nothing left to learn from the point of no return…**_

When the door reopened, it was Willie and not Raines who walked in. Jarod relaxed his guard a little too soon. He thought that Willie's coming to get him was a good sign…. He was wrong.

In the time it took to blink, Willie had bound the Pretender's wrists behind him and locked him to the chair.

"Yo, Willie," Jarod let out a dry laugh. "What's up?"

"Sorry," Willie said, though he didn't sound apologetic. "Boss's orders."

"Wha-?" Jarod never had the chance to finish his word because of the fist that struck his jaw with a crushing blow.

His head snapped back sending a searing pain racing down his spine. He tried to lift his head back to its original position, but the moment he did, Willie dealt him another blow.

Jarod moaned as his vision blurred. He could feel blood trickling down his chin from the corner of his mouth.

_**Hey, hey, I saved the world today… Everybody's happy now… The bad things gone away and everybody happy now… The good thing's here to stay… Please let it stay…**_

Jarod tried to shake off the pain but Willie continued to batter him. And then suddenly it all stopped.

"Hey, boss!" Willie yelled from the doorway.

Raines entered the room again and Willie shut the door behind him.

"Is he ready to-?" Raines stared at his Sweepers. Cautiously, he ventured closer to Jarod. Nearly nose-to-nose with him, a delighted, wicked smile spread over his lips. "Well, what do we have here?"

Jarod looked bleary-eyed at the man who seemed to float in and out of his line of vision. His head was too clouded for him to wonder what Raines was referring to. He saw the man reach out for his face and…

Jarod cried in pain when Raines suddenly and viciously ripped off the prosthetic chin that had come loose from his face.

_**There's a millions mouths to feed but I've got everything I need… I'm breathing and they're hurting things inside… I've got everything to hide… I'm grieving…**_

Raines snickered. "So there's a another rat loose in the Centre. I wonder which one we've caught this time?" He saw the area around "Tony's" nose that had been cracked and was now peeling. He tore the false nose off as well.

And the doctor was taken aback for a moment.

"I don't believe it," he whispered in stunned amazement. Then he laughed a twisted cough of a laugh. "I don't believe it. Jarod has come home."

Raines watched with immense satisfaction as terror filled the Pretender's eyes. He snickered again. Finally, luck was with him! Not with Mr. Parker, not with Miss Parker, not with Lyle, and not with Jarod. It was with him. This was too much! With Jarod back at the Centre, he only had to find the Seventh Member before he would be free to dispose of Mr. Parker and take over. And as wonderful as that would be- it wouldn't be able to compare with the final destruction of Lyle and Miss Parker, who had been the bane of his existence for so long.

_Miss Parker…_

What was Jarod doing here exactly? What would have lured him back? It had to be Parker, the doctor decided.

And then a phone began to ring. Raines glance sharply at Willie who shrugged. He had the Sweeper search the Pretender who faded in and out of consciousness; Willie discovered the ringing phone in Jarod's jacket pocket.

Raines stared thoughtfully at the communication device. He was certain their Pretender was being aided by someone within the Centre. Someone… and then it came to him.

He answered the call and with a sly smile wheezed into the receiver.

"Hello, Miss Parker."

_**Do the good thing…**_


	19. Hold Back The Rain

_Quick Note: Information regarding the history of experimentation on mental patients during the 60s and 70s was obtained from several different websites. While many articles stated similar information, it is nearly impossible to confirm the complete accuracy of these articles without proper research, which, while I would love to do so as this is an area of great interest to me, would take too much time._

**Chapter 18: Hold Back the Rain**

"_No kind of sensation is keener and more active than that of pain; its impressions are unmistakable." _

_- Marquis de Sade_

Broots could have sworn that he had been over this section of the Centre's database a hundred times and never once saw anything that could have been remotely related to Project Heptagon. And then suddenly there it was- an email that had been sent to an unknown recipient. It was marked- Heptagon Dominatus Urgent and it was encrypted.

Had he been drinking anything, he would have done a spit-take.

"Sydney!" He spun around in his chair so fast he was nearly thrown out of it. At the animated expression on Broots' face, the doctor rose to his feet and walked over to him.

"What have you got?"

"An email," he explained, his voice trembling in excitement. "And I'm almost certain it's regarding Project Heptagon. It's in code at the moment and I don't know whom it was sent to, but tracing it should be doable."

Sydney was visibly impressed. "And where was this buried?"

Broots shrugged and shook his head as his fingers flew over the keyboard. "I don't know. I've been over and over this area and found nothing. But when I stopped looking for something on Project Heptagon and starting looking for something on Mr. Raines, I found this."

The doctor nodded knowingly. "Good work, my friend. How long do you think it will take to decipher it?"

The technician looked thoughtful. "Not sure yet."

A noise from a darkened corner of the room caught their attention. Broots stopped his work and looked at Sydney inquisitively. "Is that coming from the airshaft?" he wondered.

By the time they reached the vent the grate had already been knocked off and was lying on the floor. Neither men were overly surprised when Angelo emerged, however Broots' jaw dropped when the copper-trussed girl with Angelo materialized.

"Whoa, Angelo!" Broots exclaimed, staring at the girl. "Where'd you find her?"

Angelo looked at him without answering. Sydney stepped toward the girl who immediately backed up against the wall looking like a trapped cat. The doctor stopped as not to further upset her.

"My name is Sydney," he told her as a way of establishing a sense of familiarity. "And this is my friend Broots." As if cued, Broots stepped forward and gave her an uncertain smile.

Her gaze scanned over them, processing every detail of their physical appearance like a computer storing data. Simultaneously, she searched her memory banks for their names- her mind locked onto the information Lyle had fed her. He had not said anything particularly terrible about them, but he had also not said they were trustworthy.

"You seem upset," Sydney continued kindly. He inched toward her, careful not to move too close or too quickly. "We want to help you. Can you tell us your name?"

Her great gray eyes stared at him with intense circumspection. She remained silent.

"Mia," Angelo offered helpfully. He sank to the floor and watched the group from there.

Broots pursed his lips together in consideration. "That wouldn't be short for Amelia would it?"

Sydney turned slightly to him. "That's what I was wondering."

"Seventh Member."

In unison, Broots and Sydney looked at Angelo. Angelo was getting restless; he had something very important to do, but he did not want to leave before his friends had all the information they needed.

Broots looked terrified for a moment, but the longer he studied the girl the less convinced he became that Angelo was right. Sydney shared his skepticism.

"Angelo," Sydney said perplexed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He replied. His gaze darted about the room as his mind mixed with thoughts of the business he needed to attend. "Centre… assassin."

This statement prompted the girl to frown and shoot Angelo a dirty look. Sydney noticed her change of expression and he turned to the nearest desk chair, pulled it out, and slid it near her.

"Would you like a seat?" he offered, his genial demeanor remained unchanged. "You look tired."

She eyed him warily and, once he backed away, accepted the chair. Longs bangs spilled into her eyes and her hands fell limply in her lap.

"Mia," Sydney tried again, "Do you know where you are?"

She wondered if they truly didn't know who she was or if they were just playing one of those Centre games she had been warned about. She decided to answer at least some of their questions. Perhaps if she did, they'd answer some of hers.

"The Centre."

Broots looked surprised that she actually answered. Sydney's expression didn't flicker and he pressed further. "How did you get into the Centre?"

"Walked in."

Broots had to smile at the matter-of-fact answer. Mia turned her gaze to him and regarded him curiously. She would like him very much if Lyle said it was all right.

"Alone?"

"No." And she did not offer anything more than that.

Sydney took a seat on the desk. His movement startled her and she became more reticent, ducking behind her hair.

"Who brought you?"

She did not answer.

Seeking to speed up the inquisition a bit, Angelo crawled up to her unnoticed. He reached out and touched the tip of the DSA that peeked out of her pocket. The discs cascaded to the floor.

"What's that?" Sydney looked to Broots, who was already scooping up the discs. Mia stared hard at him, but did not try to stop him from taking them. "Angelo, what are these?"

Angelo retreated to his corner.

Without a word, Broots loaded one of the DSAs into the computer. He let out a low whistle when he saw the screen. "Syd, you gotta see this… we gotta a big break on Project Heptagon!"

"Heptagon?" the doctor repeated confounded. "That means she would had to have been in Raines' office."

Broots eyes widened in amazement. "Oh, my," he murmured as the disc played. "Holy Cow! Did Raines just kill that guy?"

Sydney didn't respond. He had a terrible sinking feeling that settled into his stomach. He had a strong sensation as to what Project Heptagon might possibly be.

Each one of the five DSAs showed in significant detail the Initiation Process conducted on the first five members of Project Heptagon as well as their subsequent deaths. Raines' narration was vague on the reason for the experimentation as though whoever might be viewing the video later already knew the details of the Project, but his explanation of what was happening to the subjects was explicit.

"So…" Broots hesitated, not sure if he really wanted an answer to his question. "Raines' is splitting personalities? Why?"

Sydney closed his eyes to block the images from his mind. Anguish and disbelief settled into his weary features. He stood up and began to pace the room.

Mia watched him closely, interested by his distressed behavior. While she had not seen the DSAs, she assumed they had something to with her and Lyle and if her assumption was correct, she wanted to know what he knew.

"I can only speculate," the doctor replied grimly. "This type of psycho-experimentation was stopped years ago. Of course, the Centre would continue to pursue it."

"I don't understand."

"In the early 70s, it was discovered that the CIA and military were funding behavior-modification and mind-control drug experiments where mental patients and prisoners were secretly used as disposable lab rats, so to speak. They were Project Bluebird, Project Artichoke, and MK-ULTRA." Sydney paused and glanced at Mia before continuing. "A few years later, there were found to be psychiatric slave labor camps run by a profit-making corporation in South Africa."

Broots shivered as the information sunk in. "The Centre…?"

The doctor nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Experimenting involved everything from radiation and LSD to shock therapy and sensory deprivation. All done in the effort to exert control over the human psyche." Sydney began to pace again. "There was once an area below the Centre, below the known sub-levels, that was dedicated to psychiatric research. We were always told that the projects that went on down there were to find a cure for mental illness and we were just naïve enough to believe what we were told back then."

Broots' attention drifted to the still-playing DSA of one the subjects suffering a violent hallucinatory episode. "Do you know what this is about?"

"I know what I was told," he sighed in resignation, wondering how he could have been so oblivious to the horrors that surrounded him for so long. "I had a friend who worked in the Psychiatric Research Wing and he was absolutely convinced that what he was involved in was for the benefit of mankind. During one of the last conversations I had with him, he told me that they had begun work on a drug that created a blank personality that could be," he grimaced as he searched for the right word, "programmed. The theory was to incorporate the all aspects of the subject's persona into the blank personality except the mental illness."

"But of course that's not what the Centre was doing," Broots thought aloud, clicking off the visual; he couldn't take any more of the patient's torment.

"No, and research was in its formative stage at the time. There was no real way to ethically conduct the experiments and there were too many unknown variables to continue the Project."

"What happened to your friend?"

"We were informed that the Psychiatric Wing had been shut down as research had hit an area where it would be unethical to continue experimentation. Everyone involved had been released from Centre employment. At the time, I thought nothing of it. Of course, I never heard from Kensington again. I had forgotten all about it until those pictures that Jarod sent struck me. Then I recalled that the murder victims had all been colleagues of Kensington's."

"Does Jarod know about this?"

"No," Sydney sank into the nearest chair. Broots looked at him worriedly as the doctor suddenly seemed exhausted. "By the time I realized the connection, things with Miss Parker were escalating. I was worried about her and unfortunately, never got the chance to connect with Jarod about it."

Broots considered this carefully, and then shrugged off-handedly. "Guess you could tell him now since he is here."

This garnered a slight smile from the older man. "I don't care to arouse anyone suspicions by consorting with Raines' new sweeper," he said. "Jarod will have enough to deal with."

"This still doesn't make much sense," Broots sighed. He sat up straight suddenly. "I wish Miss Parker would come back."

Mia was fairly certain that she could get up and walked out without them noticing; her problem was that she didn't know where she'd be if she walked out. From what she gathered, the Centre had eyes everywhere and she wasn't willing to risk winding up in a dungeon somewhere. However, she'd about had it with their chatter and wanted something to happen.

She got her wish when a tall, brunette beauty entered the room with hurricane force. She sank down further in her seat hoping she wouldn't be noticed. She had a bad feeling about what was to come.

"Parker?" Sydney seemed relieved to have a change of subject. "Is everything all right?"

The hard look on her face withered and she knotted her hands into fists at her side. She was pale and visibly upset. "No," she said thickly, avoiding eye contact with them. "Everything is all wrong."

Sydney knew instinctively that something had to be very grave for her to show such emotion. Broots fidgeted nervously with the keyboard in front of him, not wanting to hear more bad news.

"My father is missing again and Jarod's been captured."

Mia noticed the distinct change in atmosphere. She watched the trio carefully. The two men were clearly stunned by this news and the older man looked devastated. Going strictly on what Lyle had told her, she thought the capture of this Jarod was good news. She wondered why they were so disconcerted.

Broots was the first to speak. "H-how?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know how or when or why. I just know that when I called to warn him that he was in serious trouble he didn't answer… Raines did."

"Well," Broots stammered, trying to hope in a rather hopeless situation. "Maybe… maybe Jarod lost the phone somehow and Raines found it. Maybe it doesn't mean anything?"

Parker rolled her eyes skyward. "He called me by name when he answered, Broots. Tell me that doesn't mean something."

Broots clammed up. There was nothing he could say.

"What made you think that Jarod was in trouble, Parker?" Sydney's calm façade was back in place, but it didn't fool Parker; she knew how distressed he was.

"My father's disappeared again without a trace. Raines tells me that Lyle's returned to Centre for no reason. And now Lyle's gone, too?" She was agitated and it showed, simply because she couldn't offer a decent explanation for calling him. "I just-"

Parker did not get any further. The mention of Lyle's name had caught Mia's attention and she was instantly at Parker's side.

Parker raised an eyebrow. "Babysitting, guys?" she asked sounding more like her normal self. "Who's this?"

"Meet the Seventh Member," Sydney said simply.

"You're kidding… her?" Parker nearly laughed. The girl was about as intimidating as a kitten. However, the look in Sydney's eye told her that he wasn't joking. "What's going on?"

Sydney informed Parker of Mia's appearance, the DSAs, and what he had told Broots about the Centre's now closed region.

"How many more skeletons are we going to find in the closets around here?" she muttered under her breath at the conclusion of the doctor's speech.

Broots swallowed hard as he showed Parker the DSAs. He really hoped they didn't find any literal skeletons anywhere; the figurative ones were bad enough.

Parker didn't view all the footage the discs held; there wasn't enough time for that. She let out a long sigh and cast a brief sympathetic look at the girl. "Poor kid," she muttered. She turned fully on Mia who was still staring hard at her with her strange eyes. She looked back at the doctor.

"What do you think was the point of this, Syd?" she asked, gesturing at the screen.

"I would assume the Centre was attempting to create the perfect assassin, though there isn't enough information to draw any solid conclusions."

"They wanted someone who get away with murder." It was the first full sentence Mia had spoken to them.

Parker raised her eyebrows. "Go on," she coaxed.

Mia studied her intently and took her time answering. "The sub-personality," she said finally, "was the one that was programmed to do the killing and is only active long enough to carry out the order. Then the," she tried to recall the terminology Lyle had used, "Primary personality takes over again with no memory of what has happened."

Parker looked to Sydney who nodded.

"It makes sense," he said, mulling over the information. He gestured to Mia. "Who would ever even suspect someone like her? None of us believed it at first"

She turned back to Mia. "You obviously remember though."

The girl shook her head.

Parker didn't quite buy the innocent act. "Then how do you know about this?"

"Read the file."

"And where's that?" She sounded extremely annoyed with the minimal information that was being given.

"In the airshaft in…" she gritted her teeth as the man's name was hazy. "Raines… office."

Broots couldn't contain his amazement. "We've been trying to get in there forever. How'd you do it?"

She turned her eyes on him. "I didn't."

Parker was loosing patience. "Want to elaborate on that?"

"Bobby did."

"Oh, well that explains it," Parker retorted sharply. Pulling herself up to her full height and cast a steely glare at the girl. "Who is Bobby?"

Mia gave the other woman a curious look as though trying to determine if she was serious or playing dumb. Parker shifted very slightly under her penetrating gaze, feeling like she was trapped under a microscope.

"Bobby." She said matter-of-factly as though they should all know whom she meant. If anyone was playing ignorant it was Mia. She could have told them Bobby was Mr. Lyle, but she had not yet decided how she felt about these people and how much she was going to trust them.

"Sydney." Parker snapped, motioning for him to take over. She didn't feel like pulling teeth at the moment and walked away.

"Mia," he said gently. She smiled slightly as though to encourage him. "We don't know who Bobby is? Could you tell us about him?"

Right before she answered, it became crystal clear to the trio who she was referring to. Mia looked straight at Parker with a doe-eyed expression.

"Miss Parker's brother." There was the faintest hint of spite underlying the ingenuousness.

"You mean Lyle?" Parker's eyes darkened several shades as she locked gazes with the girl.

"No," she said mulishly. "I mean Bobby."

Sensing that the situation was quickly deteriorating, Sydney stepped in and tried to regain control. "You were with Ly- Bobby and he brought you to the Centre?"

The terseness disappeared when she answered him. "Yes."

"Why did he take you to Raines' office?"

"To find my file."

"Do you know why he wanted the file?"

"Yes. He wanted to know what they did to me."

"Where is Bobby now?"

"If I knew _that_ I wouldn't be here."

Parker snorted. "What a trip." She put both hands on her hips and addressed Sydney. "This is getting us nowhere. We need to find Jarod and figure out what's really going on."

Sydney ignored her for the moment and rephrased his question. "Mia, why aren't you with Bobby now?"

Her expression darkened and her eyes deepened to storm cloud gray. "They took him."

"Who did?" Parker's interest was piqued again. She certainly wouldn't mind having Lyle out of the way…. permanently.

"That…that… I don't know!" she cried in frustration. "I don't know who these people are! They took him. That creepy guy and some other people." She returned to her chair, plunked down in it, and folded her arms over her stomach. Her expression clearly stated that she was finished talking.

_Questions, questions! They ask questions I don't know the answer to! _

"Describe them."

She glared with unveiled disdain at Parker. "Some… some big dudes, a black guy and guy with a bad bleach job and a couple of others." As though sensing the woman's next question, she quickly added snappishly, "And no, I don't know their names!"

"My, my, my," Parker said in a low tone. Internally, she was nearly panicked with this news on Jarod; she feared that Lyle also had his slimy hands on her Pretender. "Little girl's got a big attitude."

_You ain't seen nothing yet, Lady, _the little girl thought darkly.

* * *

They were chattering again and he couldn't make them stop. They hurled insults at him and ridiculed him. Their words nipped at him with needle-like teeth- he was sure his ears were bleeding. He was frantic to shut them up, shut them out, but he could not move.

Oh Ho! Do you believe us know? You thought you were so smart…. You thought you were so clever… You thought you'd be king of the world… Oh, Ho! He, he, ha, ha. But we always knew better! Too stupid, too dim to be such grand things! No, not a king are you, but court jester! How fitting… Yes, yes, we approve! Hail to the king of fools!

And on and on they goaded him. He fought to open his eyes, to see his scorners face-to-face. He felt so odd as though he were floating… suspended in a warm cocoon that constricted his range of motion to nothing…

His eyes suddenly snapped open…

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his throat burned. Every pain nerve in his body was screaming in protest. His eyes cracked opened, slowly letting the light in. When the brightness no longer bothered his vision, he opened his eyes fully and scanned his surroundings, trying to make sense of where he was.

Lying on his back, he had clear view of the stark ceiling. There was little else he could see as he found that he could not move his head or any other part of his body for that matter. His jaw, it seemed, was wired shut and his neck in brace. He strained his eyes looking down as far as he could. He caught a glimpse of his black shirt. He deduced that there was nothing binding him as he originally thought; he simply could not move.

And the room began to spin…

Something impossible was happening to him. He was trapped underwater, but he was not drowning or even gasping for air. It was as though time at stop at the moment he had taken that deep breathe before going under thereby sustaining him continually.

Above him, through the watery envelope around him, he could see a peeling gray ceiling far above him. In his peripheral vision, the foreboding sides of the ceramic bathtub surrounded him and it gave him the acute feeling that he had been in the same situation many times before. Somehow he was also keenly aware that this was the first time he had ever been conscious during the experience. It was more than a little disconcerting.

His attention was drawn back to his liquid tomb. Crimson drifted in the water in long ribbons. The bands that flowed all around him mesmerized him. They reminded him of something he missed. The voices faded to the background as visions danced before him. He smiled dreamily as the scarlet strips thickened, swirled into clouds, and stretched out again.

It never occurred to him that it was his blood that composed the ribbons...

He was constantly falling in and out of consciousness. The weight of his conscience bore so heavy upon him that it began to manifest itself in strange dreams. His last conversation with her played over and over again like a demonic recording on eternal repeat.

"_You lied to me. You are in the Centre."_

"_Don't get holier-than-thou on me, Jarod. Face it, you are no more a saint than I am."_

"_If this is how you want to play. Fine. But you'd better be careful, Wonder Boy, because I won't come to your aid if you get caught. You are on your own."_

_On your own… on your own… You are on your own!_

No! He wanted to scream, to put an end to the torment. He didn't want to be on his own. He didn't want to be alone.

But he knew was…

Buried deep with the heart of the Centre no one could them scream…

* * *

"Amelia, why do you call him Bobby?" This was something that had been troubling Sydney for quite some time.

Her legs were folded close to her chest and she was glaring at Parker over her knees. For the last fifteen minutes the other woman had been trying to coerce her into helping her find Jarod. Mia was not interested in helping to rescue anyone who had tried to kill Lyle. Parker did not take her refusal well and was currently stewing off to the side. She lifted her chin slightly and glanced at the doctor.

"That's what he prefers to be called."

Sydney exchanged surprised looks with Broots. He was still processing the information gained from Mia, but a theory had begun to form in the back of his mind.

From across the room, Parker gave a derisive snort. "Lyle's certainly got you under his thumb."

Mia sat up straight with an icy look in her eyes. "Why are you so jealous of Bobby?" It wasn't a question asked entirely out of spite; it was, as all her judgments of them were, based on unwavering faith in what Lyle had told her. She was simply curious.

Parker responded with a toothy and deadly smile. "Are you serious?" she asked amused. "Am I jealous of Lyle? Please…" In an instant, she was upon Mia, turning the girl's chair sharply to face her. "Listen up, sweetheart," her voice was laced with arsenic and her ice blue eyes were cold enough to freeze the Sahara. "I don't know what he's told you, but let me tell you something about dear 'Bobby'."

Against Sydney's advise, Parker vindictively informed Mia of all of Lyle's past sins, from the faked deaths and murdered mail-order brides to twisted liaisons with the Centre's enemies and sinister pastimes. When she was finished she stood back from the girl fully expecting her to realize the monster Lyle was and come around to them. Of course, Parker had a ulterior motive for revealing her brother's past; she wanted to gain Mia's alliance because she believed the girl would be critical in Jarod's recovery.

"So what do you think of your Bobby now?"

Mia's response shocked them all. She just shrugged. "I already know all that. Bobby told me," she remarked, sounding exasperated. She blew her bangs out of her face.

"Whoa," Broots let out the breath he had been holding, "this is getting too weird."

Parker threw up her hands in disgust and aggravation. Deciding she couldn't waste any more time with the futile interrogation, she stalked away practically dragging Broots with her. Sydney remained near Mia who staring through him with a vacant expression. She was quite an enigma. The doctor was willing to wager that she knew much more about Mr. Lyle, but was withholding the information. She knew who Lyle was and was still protecting her. But why? What was he holding over her?

"Hey, Freud," Parker's voice broke through his thoughts. "Are you going to help or go catatonic?"

A humorless smile broke his grim expression as he went to his colleagues.

Angelo had slipped away a long while ago. When he slipped back in all was silent. Parker, Broots, and Sydney were huddled together in intense conversation while Mia sat sullenly in her seat facing the opposite direction.

Angelo went to Mia first. He approached her cautiously, maintaining a safe distance. He prodded at her hand with a folded piece of paper. She glanced down at him with a frown. He pushed the paper at her and finally she took it. She opened it up and saw that it was a map of the Centre. One corner was circle in bright red ink.

Mia looked at him as though to ask him what this was. He smiled slightly to himself, avoided her eyes, and scurried away. As studied the map trying to make sense of it, she heard a commotion from the other people in the room. "Jarod…" she heard Angelo say. "Here…hurry." She lost track of what they were doing until she heard Parker speak again.

"What about her?"

Without thinking, Mia quickly folded the map up and shoved it into her pants pockets. When they reached her, she was staring blankly at the wall again.

"We have to do something with her until we can get to the bottom of all this," Parker continued. "I'm not going to just hand her over to Raines, but she can't be loose to roam around the Centre either."

Mia's resolved wavered and in a moment of deep worry and fear, she grabbed onto Parker's hand. Parker regarded the physical contract with annoyed wariness.

"Are you going to find Bobby?" her eyes brimmed with concerned and petition.

Parker might have had some compassion if the subject had not been Lyle. As far as she was concerned, Lyle's disappearance was a blessing.

"Look," Parker said quietly, taking her back from the girl. She leaned over until they were nose-to-nose. "I have nothing against you. But as for Lyle, I hope he rots wherever they buried him."

And so the line had been drawn and teams chosen with the women on opposing sides.


	20. Servatis A Maleficum

**Chapter 19: Servatis a Maleficum**

_No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks._

_- Mary Wollstonecraft_

She caught more than a passing glance of the map that was spread out on the table. While the three people holding her captive argued over the best way to handle the current situation, Mia studied the map Angelo had given them. She raised a hand to her nose and cocked her head to the side in thought. She was more than a little curious as to who this Angelo was and why he had given a map to her- after all, she had no connection to their Jarod. She wasn't given much time to wonder about this, however, as

Parker hauled her away from the table.

"Don't even think about taking that information to Lyle," the woman hissed.

She responded by wrinkling her nose at her. Parker turned to Broots.

"You know what to do," she said shortly, jerking a thumb behind her.

Broots nodded uncertainly and gave Mia an apologetic look. He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder, pulled back, and hesitated. He seemed unsure of what to do.

She sighed and let her hands slap against her thighs. "Point the way," she told him with an air of resignation. "Lock me up."

Broots walked her to the back of the room. "You know," he began, feeling that he owed her an explanation, "there are some not so nice people looking for you, Mi- Amelia. It's for your protection."

Mia smiled slightly knowing that he was trying to be pleasant, but she also knew that it was more for their protection than hers.

She could tell by Parker's attitude and the other man's aloof demeanor towards her that they were suspicious of her and not convinced that she wouldn't suddenly snap. She also knew that much of that was due to her connection to Lyle.

Broots led her to something that could only be described as a closet. He held the door open and she stepped inside.

"I'm really sorry," he said.

She shrugged. "Gotta do what ya gotta do," she said, studying him intensely. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I thought Jarod is a bad guy. Why are you helping him?"

Broots regarded her with surprise. "Oh," he said, realizing the extent of Lyle's influence over her. "No… no, Jarod's a good guy."

"Who is he?"

Broots glanced over his shoulder, wondering if he should be saying anything. The answer was probably no, but considering how much Mia already knew and that she was going to be "locked up", it didn't seem like there was much harm in responding to her question.

"Well, you see," he began finding it far more difficult to explain than he anticipated, "Jarod is very special- he's a Pretender. Uh, a pretender is…"

"I know, someone who can be anyone they wanna be," she said hurrying him along before his boss caught him talking to her.

"Bobby told me that much."

"Oh, right," he took a deep breath before plunging ahead. "Well, Jarod was taken from his parents and raised by the Centre because of his special abilities. But he escaped a few years ago and we've been trying to get him back ever since."

Mia's eyes narrowed and she arched an eyebrow. "So you've been trying to catch him and now that you've caught him, you're gonna bust him out? Am I missing something?"

He had no immediate response. "Well, yeah… but it's complicated… There are some really… uh…bad people in the Centre and it's really hard to know who to trust. We have to make sure the right people get him." He frowned slightly, knowing how inadequate his explanation was.

"Yeah, so how's he not a bad guy?"

"He was treated really badly by some of the people here. You know he doesn't know his family or anything. Ever since he escaped, he's been looking for his past, but he's also helped a lot of people along the way," he paused thinking of how Jarod helped him when he witnessed the Annex murders.

"So he's Batman without the cape and cowl?"

"Something like that." Broots saw Parker turned towards them out of the corner of his eye and hastily straightened. He felt so horrible for Mia- she looked so upset and lost. As he began to shut the door, Mia put her foot in the way.

"Why does everyone hate Bobby?"

Broots gulped. He shrugged weakly. "Mr. Lyle is a not so good guy," he muttered. "If Jarod's Batman then Lyle's Two-Face. Look, Mia, you don't want to get involved with him. He's… he's…"

"Evil?" she offered, remembering the awful words of the old hag in the warehouse. She turned and ventured further into the closet before sliding dejectedly down the wall to the floor. "You can close the door, Mr. Broots."

He lingered in the doorway wishing there was a way he could help her. At Miss Parker's call, he sadly closed and locked the door.

After a while, Mia stood and felt around for a light source. She found it in the form of a solitary bulb hanging down from the middle of the ceiling. Returning to her spot on the floor, she cradled her knees to her chest and listened to the muffled voices filtering through the door. Her thoughts were gloomy and depressed- there was so much she didn't understand. She rubbed her forehead against the top of her knees and tried to stifle the urge to cry. All she ever did was try to survive life without being noticed which was a difficult task for a child of an infamous murderer. What on earth had she done to deserve all this?

_And now I know I'm no better than my father…_

There was something else that weighed heavily on her mind. Broots had made Jarod sound like a saint, which wasn't even close to what Lyle had told her. According to Lyle, Jarod had created a great many projects that were used to hurt a lot of people and that after his escape he continued to wreak his havoc, leaving a trail of tears behind. He had warned her to stay away from the Pretender for there was no telling what he was capable of doing.

Mia turned her head to the side and exhaled a large breath. She did not want to accept that he had intentionally lied to her and she tried to justify his reasons to herself. He had been upfront about the other aspects of his life; the parts one would understandably lie about. So she convinced herself he had a legitimate purpose for telling her what he did about Jarod, but she still felt unsettled.

However, that did not change her resolve to find him. He, at the very least, deserved the chance to explain himself.

* * *

One thing that had helped her greatly over the years, particularly in school, was her photographic memory. As she studied her map, she pulled up Parker's map in her mind and compared data. Quickly, she realized that, while they were the same map, the same areas had not been circled on it. The area encircled on the other map was in a lower region of the Centre located above the area on her map. If the upper section was where Jarod was being held, it stood to reason that perhaps her map indicated where Lyle was. Her heart rate increased as hope was re-ignited.

She was sitting quietly in the corner of the room with her hands clasped before her and her head slightly bowed. A cigarette rested in the ashtray on the table smoking lazily as its ashes seethed in orange. Her breathing was tight and controlled unlike the emotion that bubbled inside.

As with all the traumatic events that had occurred in her life, she suffered in silence, dealing with the pain alone. She struggled to keep her thoughts focused on the mission ahead, but her thoughts kept straying to him…

She was worried, terribly worried, and just a tiny bit frightened. There was no telling what might happen to Jarod, what might _be_ happening. With Lyle and Raines involved… She shuddered slightly.

The stillness within the Centre also concerned her. The return of the Pretender was the foremost mission of the Centre and yet it had caused not a stir. It was as though the Centre hierarchy was occupied with another matter and not prepared for their quarry's homecoming.

Then there was Mia. This was a source of much uncertainty for Parker. She wasn't sure what to make of the girl, who was certainly a victim of circumstances. They knew so little about the purpose of Project Heptagon that it was impossible to know whether she was benign or a serious threat. And the girl's loyalty to Lyle troubled her; Mia was impressionable and with Lyle guiding her Centre-given skills, she could be a lethal weapon, indeed. And her brother was not one to pass up such a grand opportunity.

The situation was bleak and there was no telling how many other sordid secrets they would uncover before it was all over. Surprisingly, it was Broots who brought some hope to the situation.

"Miss Parker!" he cried in a hushed whisper. "Miss Parker, you're not going to believe this!"

She stood abruptly and walked to the center of the room. "What?"

Broots glanced over his shoulder as though he was expecting someone to jump out of the shadows. "I just came across this recent memo to Raines," he held it out to, the paper trembling in his hand. "Raines is gone!"

"What!?" She snatched the paper from him and her eyes flew furiously over the note.

"It was so strange," Broots continued visibly shaken. "I passed Raines' office on my way back here and the door was open so I

peeked inside. Everything was a wreck, Miss Parker. Papers all over the place, the file cabinet overturned. And there was no one around. In fact, there's hardly a soul in Centre right now. It's creepy."

"The Triumvirate summoned Raines' to New Mexico." Parker turned a questioning look on him. "Why?"

Broots shrugged. "Dunno. That's all there was to the memo. I asked Jason from upstairs if he'd seen Mr. Raines today. Well,

Jason said he saw him leave the Centre, get into a limo, and take off."

"Must be going back to the mother ship," Parker murmured absently. She glanced at Sydney. "We move now."

While Broots jumped to obey her orders, Sydney was more deliberate. Nothing could convince him that this wasn't some elaborate Centre setup. He also knew that nothing would keep Parker from following her own agenda- she and Lyle were much alike in that way. Taking a place next to Broots, Sydney accepted that there was nothing to be done except cover her. The technician was already well into his assignment which was to access all of the Centre's surveillance cameras.

Parker loaded a fresh clip into her gun and pocketed a spare. After securing her hair away from her face, she turned to the men.

"We're set to go, Miss Parker," Broots informed her. "Surveillance footage of the sub-levels and Renewal Wing is currently

looping." To himself, he wondered if there was anyone left in the Centre to be monitoring the cameras.

_Better safe than sorry, I guess…_

Sydney assisted Parker in hooking up a tiny communication transmitter. The minute microphone was nestled in the lapel of her short, dark jacket completely invisible even to someone looking for it.

"I'd feel better if you'd wear the vest," Sydney said quietly nodding to the bulletproof jacket that lay on the table.

"I won't need it," she said tersely, snapping up the buttons on her external jacket.

"Parker…" his face was stern. "Why are you being stubborn about this?"

She glanced away from him. "Ready, Broots?"

"All set, Miss Parker."

"Good. Don't forget to check on the kid once in awhile."

Broots nodded. "Miss Parker, please be careful."

But she was gone before he could finish his sentence. Sydney took a seat at the desk, his face haggard by fret. He pressed the palms of his hands together and bowed his head slightly. With his eyes closed, it almost looked like he was praying…

_Protect my children…_

* * *

She had mapped out in her mind the intricate details of her rescue mission- a mission that was thwarted by only one thing- her own captivity.

By now she had lost track of how long she'd been in the empty closet. Long ago she'd given up searching for an escape route as she could see everything in the room from her spot on the floor and the only way out was through the door. So she sat there thumping the back of her head against the wall in frustration; it was either that or sleep and her mind was far too active to rest.

A few moments later she noticed a lack of sensation in her feet. Kicking off the high heels, she began to stand only to be snapped back down; the hem of her dress was caught on something. She struggled with the material, grasping the dress in one hand and pushing against the wall with the other. Her hand grazed something sharp near the floor. The cloth pulled free and she stuck her smarting finger in her mouth. She moved to the side to allow the light to shine on the area where she had been sitting. She promptly fell to her knees.

It was there- small though; much smaller than the ones she had previously crawled through, but it was an air vent. She felt enormously stupid for checking every inch of the room except where she sat. Pushing inadequacy aside, she tried to pry the grate off. It screwed on tight. She nearly screamed in frustration.

A sliver of light fell over her as the door cracked opened. She didn't bother to move when Broots entered with a tray of food.

"Are you okay?" he asked sounding genuinely worried. He set the tray down next to her.

"No." She watched him out of the corner of her eye.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Got a screwdriver?"

Broots shifted nervously, wondering what she could possibly want with the tool. The knowledge that the girl was an assassin pushed to the forefront of his mind, he stood up and took a step back. "W-well, if you need anything else just yell."

And with that she was alone again.

The perfect act of protest would be to leave the tray as it was thereby making it clear that they could do what they wanted to her, but they would not have complete control over her. However, it couldn't help to at least see what was on menu.

A sandwich of ham and Swiss cheese set in the corner with a glass of milk opposite it. A bowl of soup was the main dish. There was nothing that interested her much until she caught sight of the metal spoon lying sedately upon the napkin.

Slowly, she reached for the spoon, afraid to get her hopes up, but unable to contain her anticipation. She scooted back to the vent and wedged the flat end of the utensil into the silver slit of the screw. The end was a tad too large but looked like it would work anyway. She pressed firmly against it and with all her might pulled on the spoon. Ever so slightly the screw turned.

It took almost an eternity to loosen all of the screws, but finally she managed it. It took an equally long time to slide the grate off in silence as not to alert the two guarding her.

The vent was smaller that she first thought and she was concerned that she might not fit. Before attempting to enter the shaft, she reached for her shoes then hesitated. High heels shoes in the long run would surely be detrimental but the extraordinary length of her pants was likewise a hurdle. Quickly she cuffed the pants several times, making the length manageable.

The shaft was a tight fit around her slim figure and it took quite a bit of wiggling to slide into it. She was fine with the enclosed space until her head followed the rest of her into the shaft. Once she was completely engulfed she was overwhelmed by claustrophobia. Her frantically pounding heart reverberated in her ears with the thunder of falling bricks. The deeper in the shaft she went, the more constricted her breathing until she felt certain she would suffocate. Terror held tightly to her throat and there was no way she could go any further. She would simply have to find another way to get to Lyle; she wasn't going to make it this way.

She tried to push herself back up but couldn't get any leverage. In a desperate attempt to propel herself up, she squirmed further into the passage and her legs were suddenly free from their prison. Panic was replaced by relief and excitement as the shaft widened to its normal width.

Dizzy with respite, she leaned back, panting heavily, and tried to regain her bearings. She closed her eyes and summoned up the image of her map, tracing over the path to Lyle once more. Shortly, she began the crawl through the air ducts with the map still visible in her mind. She wound her way through turn after turn in the dark passages, barely able to see even after her eyes adjusted to the dark. Just as the end was in sight, she hit a dead-end.

_Fabulous! What else can go wrong!!_

According the map she had memorized there should be an opening in the floor of the shaft she was in that went down. However, there was no opening. She searched the floor tediously, going over and over it, looking for anything that would reveal the entrance.

There was nothing. She pressed her hands against her forehead, face scrunched in disappointment. She was positive that she had

followed the map right but that didn't alter reality.

_Maybe the opening has been closed since the map was drawn…_

She hissed in anger, swearing at whoever the idiot was who covered the opening. There was nothing to do but go back. She turned around and crawled back the way she came. Just as she reached the entrance to the passageway, the floor gave way beneath her.

Darkness swallowed her as she plummeted into the abyss…

* * *

There was something sinister in the stillness of the sublevels. If Jarod was down here the entire area should have been secured and crawling with Centre personnel. As it stood, there was dead silence.

She entered the Renewal Wing with her gun drawn and ready for use. The smelled of astringent stung her nose as she stalked the rooms. Equipment and beds stood ready as if expecting company at any time, but nothing was currently in use. That baffled Parker.

After extensively searching the wing and finding nothing, Parker started to inform Sydney and Broots that she was coming back when a faint noise caught her attention.

She lowered her gun but did not put it away. She held her breath waiting to hear it again. She turned her head in the direction of the echo. Stepping softly as not to cover the sound with the click of her heels, Parker crept vigilantly in the direction it was coming from. The closer she got to the source, the more the noise sounded like a moan of pain. She found herself in a secluded section of the Renewal Wing, an area she was not familiar with. Her back was against the wall. To her right was a locked door; nearly invisible as it was the same stark white as the wall around it. A tiny square window was the only portal into the room on the other side. Her vision was too impaired by the minimal opening to properly see inside, but there _was _something in there.

The door was, of course, locked. Too impatient to bother with a less damaging way to open the door, she lifted the gun, aimed it at the lock, and fired. The lock flew apart and clinked onto the tile.

With gun still poised, she pushed open the door with the toe of her shoe and stepped into the room. The door smoothly closed itself behind her. Stifled groans drew her attention to the pale curtain to her left. With the nose of the gun she parted the drape and found him prostrate on cold steel examination table bound at the feet with leather straps. His face twisted in agony and his hands grasped at air. She couldn't tell if he was conscious or dreaming.

"Jarod." The gun had been put away, leaving her hands free to capture his head between her palms. "Hey," she called firmly, but softly. She tried to establish eye contact with him, but his pupils were not dilating correctly.

She gave up and instead focused on unfastening his feet; that seemed to have an effect on him. His hands went to his head as he rolled onto his side, dangerously close to the edge. His dark eyes opened and darted around madly.

"Hey," she tried again, squatting down so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. She snapped her fingers in front of him trying to get his attention. "Come on. Snap out it."

He stopped cringing long enough to raise his head. He was looking straight at her, but there was no recognition in his eyes. She stood up and stepped back.

"Sydney," she said into her lapel. "Syd, are you there?"

"Yes, Parker," the doctor's voice sounded strained. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm not sure. I found Jarod. But they must have drugged him or something. He's conscious but not responding."

"If he's coming out of a sedative-induced sleep it may take a while for him to fully come around."

"How long is that going to take?"

"Patience, Parker," the doctor replied with a hint of a smile. "It shouldn't take too long."

"Syd," Parker watched Jarod's fight for control over his body with a vexed frown. "Have Broots check around and see if he can find out why there is no one in the Centre."

"All right. We'll do what we can. Be careful… both of you."

Parker returned to Jarod and found him trying to sit up. She stood before him as the impassable practical person she always was, but beneath the cool exterior she was battling her uncertainty over how much empathy to show him.

Jarod lifted his heavy head as he allowed his feet to drop over the edge of the table. His vision was cloudy but clearing and the voice in his head, the one that sounded exactly like Parker, had stopped talking to him. The more his equilibrium returned the

stronger he felt. But his head pounded mercilessly.

Apparently, though he wasn't as recovered as he thought he was. Before him loomed a very convincing apparition of Miss Parker.

He closed his eyes and grunted. It did no good; she was still standing there.

"Get into a fight with a Clorox bottle?" She remarked in reference to his hair. As sarcastic as the comment was, he caught the underlying concern in her voice.

"What's going on?" he asked groggily; still not convince that she wasn't a hallucination.

"That would be the question everyone is wanting the answer to. Are you all right?"

"Yes," he sighed. "I don't think anything's been seriously damaged."

They stared at each other for a long while before Jarod spoke again.

"I though you said you weren't going to help me if I got caught." He was tempted to add "or did you just lie to me again", but he thought it would be unwise to anger her at the moment.

"Yeah, well, things have come up," she said slightly annoyed with him for bringing up the past threat. "Actually, things have taken an even more bizarre turn since we last spoke."

Jarod was being to feel normal again save for the headache. "How so?"

She filled him in on their discovery of the Heptagon DSAs, Mia and the girl's involvement with Lyle. Jarod listened silently as she spoke and remained still for several moments after she finished.

"You say that Mia was with Lyle when he broke into Raines' office?"

Parker nodded. She leaned against the table near where he sat. "According to her. And she would have to have been in order to

get those DSAs."

"There wasn't anyone with Lyle," Jarod said. "He was the only one there when we came."

"Yes, well, it seems that Lyle had a rare moment of selflessness and hid her in the air vent. She says that's where the Project files are."

She was close enough to him that he could sense the tension in her. He wished there was something he could do to put her at ease.

He shifted a bit and refocused on their discussion.

"So where is Raines? I can't believe you got in here so easily," he said, glancing at her.

"You got me. The Centre's become a ghost town. Daddy's gone… Lyle's gone... Broots found a memo to Raines from the

Triumvirate summoning him to New Mexico. We have confirmation that he left the Centre this afternoon. But as for everyone

else…" She spread her hands out before her, palms up, punctuating her lack of answers.

"Lyle's not gone," Jarod said suddenly.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Raines' has him locked up somewhere around here."

"Come again?"

Jarod proceeded to tell her of the strange spectacle he had witnessed earlier. Parker was duly befuddled and could say nothing.

She swore under her breath.

"I think we need to take advantage of an empty Centre and get some answers," Jarod said.

Parker gave him a sharp look. "We'll find plenty of answers when we find Lyle."

Jarod concurred with her. "Raines locked him away in an area I didn't even know existed."

"Do you remember how to get there?"

It wasn't that he had forgotten her earlier betrayal- he was still considerably hurt. But he determined it to be in their best interest to let it go for the time being. So he gave her a mischievous smirk. "Of course. Shall we try this partnership thing again?"

She regarded him warily as she mulled the idea over; she was still annoyed with him. "I suppose we could forget the past… for now."

"Apology accepted," he said with a wink, turning away to avoid her chilling rebuttal glare.

She followed the Pretender out of the room shooting daggers at his back.

* * *

There were no stars only minute particles of flickering lights that swarmed in front of her face. She had never felt more out of sorts than she did at that moment. Though she wasn't sure how far she had fallen she knew the drop had been a tremendous one.

_I'd love to get my hands on the idiot who designed that messed-up ductwork!_

Aside from a sore rump and protesting head, Mia found herself in one piece just slightly worse for wear. She pulled herself into a sitting position and tried to conjure up the map once again. It took a while for the image to clarify and even longer for her to figure out where she was and how to proceed. As it turned out, she had only a short way to go until the exit to the shaft. Thankfully, she had pocketed the spoon she used earlier and used it to once again jimmy the screws out of the grate. The grate fell to the floor with a dusty thump.

It was apparent that this area of the complex had not been used in a long time. The floor was frigid as she put her bare feet onto it.

The map indicated that Lyle was in an area that was down several flights of stairs and pass a few twisting corridors. The descent down the stairs was simple enough, but it was the labyrinth of halls that was difficult to maneuver.

She was a fan of psychological thrillers and horror flicks and every terrifying element from every movie she'd ever watched came now to haunt her as she passed through the foreboding sub-level. If the psychological apparitions weren't taunting her to run from the unknown, they were trying to paralyze her with their threats of harm.

Without warning, she was thrust into a new and different corridor. The barely-lit passage was lined on one side with doors: seven in all. A chill wound down her spine as vague familiarity crept into her consciousness. Memories seeped illegally to the surface and she knew she had been in here before.

_**Welcome to where time stands still… No one leaves and no one will… Moon is full, never seems to change … Just labeled mentally deranged… Dream the same thing every night…**_

She stared at the door to her right. It reminded her of a dark version of the isolation unit doors she had seen in the old state hospital in the City. A rusty number seven hung above the blocked-in viewing portal.

Then the cold hand of reality hit her hard. This was the hall were the experiments she and Lyle were a part of had occurred. Instantly, she withdrew her hand from the door of the horror chamber. Lyle would be in the sixth cell, if he were here at all.

She was surprised to find that only a pad lock, and a rusty one at that, was all that secured the door. For some inane reason she had always kept a bobby pin tucked behind one ear and for the first time it was actually useful. She fussed with the lock for a long while with no success. Thoroughly fed up, she slammed the lock against the door. It crumbled upon impact and fell to the floor.

_What the…? Lousy piece of…!_

She struggled to open the heavy door. It fought to stay put, but eventually had to give in. Nothing could have prepared for the sight of what lay behind that stubborn gate.

The cell was tiny and disorganized; everything was covered in a fine layer of grim. Her gaze was drawn to the center of the room where the tub stood. Bizarrely, the basin struck a familiar chord within her. But confusion was thrown to the wayside when she saw him lying on the floor next to the bathtub.

_**I see our freedom in my sight- No locked doors, no windows barred, no things to make my brain seem scarred… **_

Her gut instinct was to run to him and hold onto him as tightly as she could, but she knew better. A strange sense of calm pervaded over the emotional turmoil. Water soaked the knees of her pants as she knelt beside him. He _was_ alive; she could see his shoulders rise and fall with spasmodic breath. His face was hidden from her sight as he was lying on his stomach facing away from her. His once white undershirt was now tie-dyed in crimson. A pool of water surrounded him; water tinged with blood freshly supplied from the long precision cut on the sole of his left foot.

Gingerly, she touched his shoulder. A soft groan escaped from him. With great care, she rolled him onto his back trying not to inflict any additional pain on him. His right hand flopped onto her lap. As she took in the extent of his injuries, a very black creature stirred within her, poking its sharp talons through the surface from somewhere deep within. The creature had but one thing on its vindictive mind and it sought a way to share it with her consciousness.

Carefully, she lifted his hand from her lap and placed it on the floor. She searched the room for anything that might be of use. She removed the sheets from the bed. As stale as they were, they were better than nothing. She managed to tear one of the sheets into jagged strips to use as makeshift bandages. She took care of his foot first. After applying a tourniquet to stop the bleeding, she bundled the foot as best she could. He was still lying in an inch of water, but she was afraid to move him. Taking the sheet that was still intact; she soaked up the water around him and discarded the damp sheet to the side. She continued to bandage his wounds the best she could, taking care of the gash across his right temple. His left hand was also in bad shape- the place were his thumb had been severed was bleeding. Lastly, she took the thin blanket from the bed and wrapped him in it to keep the chill away.

Throughout the entire doctoring, he did little more than flinch and utter a moan of agony on occasion. She settled down and gently lifted his head into her lap.

"Bobby?" She spoke firmly, but gently not wanting to jar him too abruptly into the waking realm. "Bobby, can you hear me?"

His eyelashes fluttered against his bruised face. She took the remaining sheet strip and wrapped a corner around her finger. She dabbed at the blood trickling down his chin from his cracked lip. The left side of his face was largely undamaged, but the right side was already beginning to swell.

"Bobby. Bobby, it's Mia. Can you hear me?"

Finally, his eyes cracked opened.

He heard his name being called repeatedly. His eyes lethargically rolled about trying to make sense of his surroundings. He thought he knew where he was, but could not understand why her tender lilting voice had replaced the demonic chatter in his head.

He decided he must have truly died this time.

_This can't be Hell… I wouldn't be hearing her voice in Hell… Would I?_

His foot involuntarily twitched and he was surprised that he had use of his limbs again, though it hurt tremendously to move.

_**Sleep, my friend, and you will see that dream is my reality… They keep me locked up in this cage…**_

_**Can't they see it's why my brain says "rage"?**_

His eyes finally found her face. No reaction registered on his features.

"What are you doing here?" he finally got out. His voice was weak and stressed as though in had been years since he had last spoken.

A frown crossed her face, and then she smiled slightly. "What kind of question is that?" she countered.

"I told you to get out of here." His turned his face away from her and closed his eyes again.

"I saw them drag you away, Bobby. I couldn't just leave you."

"You're so foolish," bitterness flooded his tone. "You had the perfect opportunity to get away from me, to be rid of me. But what do you do, you come running back. Foolish girl…"

She decided that the trauma of recent events was the cause for his agitation, so she ignored him. "I don't know long we have before they come back, Bobby. Can you sit up?"

He muttered something incomprehensible. She helped him into an upright position. Immediately, he put a hand to his head.

"Are you okay?"

His brow was furrowed in pain. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "I've been worse," he responded grumpily. He paused a beat then asked. "Why did you come back?"

"I-I…" her voice trailed off, as she was unable to say anything. She felt as though she had done something wrong. "I don't understand why you think I wouldn't."

He grunted and raised his other hand to his head. His eyes closed.

_Because no one ever comes back…_

Several minutes passed before he opened his eyes again. His posture went rigid and she could sense a change in his mood.

"This will never work," he spat suddenly. Strength was returning to his voice.

"What will never work?" she asked timidly, afraid of upsetting him.

"_This_." He punctuated the word by motioning to the air between them with a sweeping gesture. "You can't even follow the simplest of directions. I told you exactly what to do and where to wait for me. But noooo, you couldn't do it!"

She forgot about not upsetting him and threw her hands up in exasperation. "And if I had? What good would it have done either us? The only reason I didn't do what you told me to was because I saw that guy hit you and the other two haul you away. I kind of thought that you didn't have that figured into the plan!" She pulled away from him a bit and let her hands fall into her lap. "Please, correct me if I'm wrong."

There was no reply. Eventually, he spoke again.

"How'd you find your way around this place?"

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She had caught the subtle change into his tone- from stony resentment to grudgingly apologetic. "Angelo. He found me and took me to someone named Sydney and another guy named Broots. I also met your sister." She paused a beat, then added saucily, "Apology accepted."

He snorted derisively, but did not deny anything. Then he frowned. "Wait. What do you mean Angelo found you? What's he got to do with this?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, "but he took me to the others and later gave me the map that brought me to you. He also gave a similar one to Parker, only that one showed where Jarod was."

He hung his head and swore under his breath. "Start at the beginning and tell me _everything_."

And so she did. The only thing she left out was what Broots told her about Jarod.

_**Build my fear of what's out there… Cannot breathe the open air… Whisper things into my brain assuring me that I'm insane… They think our heads are in their hands, but violent use brings violent plans… **_

"We have to get out of here," Lyle said with finality. There was fear beneath the antipathy in his voice. He knew Parker would free Jarod and he was worried that along with Raines and his crew, Parker and Jarod would also be after him.

"Yeah," she said, fidgeting with the end of a lock of her hair. "Yeah, we do."

He turned as much as he could and looked at her. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she murmured. But there was something- something she had wanted to ask him for a while and it weighed heavily on her.

"Liar," he chided. "What?"

"It's just… It's not that big of a deal…but it's just that Broots told me some stuff about Jarod that was really different than what you told me and I was kind of wondering why."

"Oh." He said darkly. "Yes, well, I lied to you about Jarod. He really is saint." He tried to use the wall to help him as he stood up.

"If you want to run and help Parker get him out of here, please go ahead… I'll completely understand."

His bluntness initial caught her off guard, but his later sarcasm simply annoyed her. "Stop it, Bobby. I just want to know why you

felt it was necessary to lie about him."

He sighed. "I don't… because…if you had…" he was flustered and the more flustered he got the angrier he became. "I wanted you hate him so you wouldn't go running to him and leave…" He ground his teeth together in silence.

"It's okay." She caught the gist of what he was trying to say. She rose to help him as he attempted walking. "It's not important."

_**Keep him tied, it makes him well… He's getting better, can't you tell? **_

He jerked away from her as soon he gained stability on his feet. "How can you be so bloody accepting?" he demanded. "I'd rather you run off with Mr. Do-Good than stand there pitying me."

"You're a jerk, you know that." She was angry, but not so much at him as at the circumstances around him. "The only one here pitying you is _you_! Now are we going to stand here all day or what?"

He stared at her, always surprised by her bouts of attitude that he both liked and hated. He refrained from lashing out further- there was no need to press his luck with her.

"Fine, fine," he growled dismissively. Pain shot up his leg when he put pressure on his left foot. He sunk to floor as his legs failed him completely. He fought to back a sob that rose in his throat. He had the sinking feeling that any attempt of his to fight the powers that be would be futile- he had no strength left to battle with.

A hand cradled his cheek. He looked up into stormy gray eyes. "What can I do?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head and feebly shrugged. "I wanna make them pay," he whispered. "If I had the strength, I'd kill them…"

"Let me do it."

"What?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Say that again."

"Let me do it," she said again. Her eyes had deepened to charcoal. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

She had changed to an extent. It was as though that dark sub-personality was poking through the sweet primary personality and voicing its desires. In her black gaze he saw the potential for a new Centre power. It delighted him greatly.

"In time, sweetheart," he smiled slightly. As much as he wanted to contemplate the new possibilities he had realized, the distress his body had suffered was overwhelming. He shivered uncontrollably and consciousness was slipping from him.

She wasn't sure where the darkness she felt was coming from and she didn't try to fight it. She settled down next to him and wrapped her arms around him to keep him as warm as possible. She kept a watchful eye on the door.

If they returned before he could move, she would be ready for them.

_**Fear of living on… Mutiny in the air… Got some death to do… Mirror stares back hard… Kill, it's such a friendly word seems the only way for reaching out again…**_

* * *

They approached the strange corridor with seven doors on one side of the hall.

"What is this place?" Parker asked in a hushed tone. They kept to one side, pressed up against the wall slowly creeping toward Lyle's prison.

"I don't know," Jarod's mind was reeling trying to calculate all the variables and possibilities of their situation in order to best anticipate whatever they may happen across. "Whatever it is, it hasn't been used in years."

"I don't understand this about Lyle," Parker was speaking more to herself than Jarod, but he answered her anyway.

"Apparently, his power is only an illusion and Raines has control over him."

"Even if that's true, things still aren't adding up."

Jarod checked up abruptly. Parker didn't see him stop soon enough and stumble into him.

"He's gone!"

"What!?" Parker stepped out from behind him and saw that one of the cell doors was standing open. "Are you sure he was in that one?"

"Yes." Jarod's dark eyes narrowed. He couldn't figure out how Lyle had managed to escape from the chamber after what they had done to him. He wasn't surprise really, merely baffled. He had to give the other man some credit- Lyle appeared to be a modern-day incarnation of Houdini.

Parker entered the room first and was promptly repulsed by the sight. "Unbelievable," she murmured. Just as Jarod had said there was no one inside.

"He couldn't have gone far," Jarod gritted his teeth in frustration. He stood in the doorway surveying the scene.

She turned to him ready to say something, but the words never left her mouth.

"Jarod," she pointed to the floor where he was standing.

Looking down, he saw what she saw. A trail of blood and water led out of the room and disappeared into the hall. He met her gaze and without a word they both hurried out of the cell.

At the end of a long passageway far from where they began, Parker and Jarod found two figures crouched down in the shadows.

As they neared the couple, Jarod got his first look at the Seventh Member. Even though Parker had told him what the girl looked like, he was still surprised by her innocence. He was surprised to see that her arms were around his arch-adversary's shoulders.

She looked up at them fearfully and he found himself lost in her exotic eyes.

The terrible shape Lyle was in surprised Parker. His head lay limply against Mia shoulder and he could hardly keep his left eye focused on them- the right eye was almost completely swollen shut. Blood soaked through his bandages and shirts.

"Game over, Lyle," Parker said coldly, training her gun on him. A thousand questions flew through her head concerning her brother's health, but she felt it necessary to be cautious around him- for all she knew this was another one of his ruses.

"Well, isn't this great," he drawled. "Mia, look who came to visit us- Parker and her Pretender."

Mia moved into a defensive posture, casting a suspicious look at them. Jarod reached out for Parker.

"Be careful," he whispered in her ear. "Lyle's likely to use her as shield."

She shot him an annoyed look. "Don't you think I know that," she hissed back.

"Aw," Lyle continued on sardonically, "how sweet to see the two of you working together. Dad would be so pleased." He began to laugh.

"Let the girl go, Lyle," Jarod said, stepping closer. "This ends now."

His demand was met with more laughter. Lyle raised his head to look directly at the Pretender. He grinned manically.

"Ah, that's where you're wrong, dear Jarod. You see, it's only just begun."


	21. Tourniquet

_The saying Jarod quotes to Mia is by Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 20: Tourniquet**

"_You can discover what your enemy fears most by observing the means he uses to frighten you." _

_-Eric Hoffer (1902 - 1983)_

He was obviously deranged and that's all there was to it. He was caught, trapped like the rat he was; yet he was laughing at them as though they were the ones who had been snared.

"This is beautiful," he managed between coughing fits. "It really is."

"What are you driveling about?" Parker snapped disgustedly at him.

"I'm overwhelmed," he continued as though he hadn't heard her speak. "You know, I never had any solid evidence about the two of you..." He leaned forward as a deep cough shook him. Scarlet stained his lips and teeth as blood filled his mouth. Mia wiped the blood from his chin with her hand. At length, he went on, "I just had this feeling… And I was right." He started to laugh again.

Jarod shot a questioning look at Parker. He wasn't quite sure what the other man was rambling about, but from Parker's murderous glare he knew that she did.

"You know, you two really do make a cute couple," he fell back on Mia who did her best to make him comfortable. "But here's what I can't figure out- why you," he pointed a shaky finger at Jarod, "set her up with Thomas. That was a stupid thing to do. Not that it matters now since he's dead." This struck him as uproariously funny and he chortled until he began to cough again.

Parker, however, was not amused- she was furious that he would dare mention Thomas' name, much less laugh at his tragic demise knowing full well what a pain-filled memory it was for her. Her hate for him soared.

Jarod's heart ached for her and his own anger toward Lyle wormed its way to the forefront of his mind. However, he knew they couldn't let emotion get the best of them or Lyle would surely win. And there was also his newest victim to think of- Jarod wasn't about to let Lyle take another soul down with him. He put a restraining hand on Parker's hand that gripped her gun, which was aimed at Lyle's heart.

"Miss Parker, the girl…"

Parker's tunnel vision of her sibling cleared and she saw the cause of his warning. Mia sat as close to Lyle as she could without being in his lap and was leaning her upper body across him making it impossible for Parker to get a clear shot at him.

Mia's heart was racing nearly as fast her mind. She was desperate to get him out of there, but it seemed an impossible feat and his inane rambling was not helping. She couldn't understand why he was talking like he was.

She leaned in close to him. "Bobby, please," she whispered in his ear. "Please stop provoking them."

"I'm not afraid of them any more." He turned his attention back to his sister and the Pretender. "Soooo…" he grinned at them.

"We just gonna stare at each other or what?"

Mia stared at him disbelief.

_Is he crazy? What is he doing? _

_**Come clean, fess up, tell all, spill gut… Off the veil- stand revealed… Show the cards, bring it on, break the seal…**_

Jarod stepped slightly ahead of Parker once she lowered her weapon.

"Like it or not, Lyle," he said advancing on the pair at the end of the corridor. "This is it."

Lyle gave him as a much of a sneer as he could. "You've said that so many times before. You've had so many chances to get your revenge on me, but you never do anything. Forgive me for not having much confidence in you this time."

Jarod fought to remain in control of his emotions and the conversation. "It's time you started telling the truth, Lyle."

"And if I did?" Lyle rolled his good eye skyward. "How would you know what the Truth is? How would you know that the Truth

wasn't another lie and that lies aren't the Truth? You'd have to take my word for it wouldn't you?" He snorted contemptuously.

Jarod bit back a growl of abhorrence. His gaze darkened considerably. "I wouldn't be so flip, Lyle. You're hardly in control of anything anymore."

He didn't say anything immediately. That evil grin was still plastered to his face. His right hand slowly rose to Mia's face. He trailed the back of his hand down her cheek. Without thinking, Mia took his hand in hers and kept his hand cradled against her cheek. He raised his chin slightly and locked gazes with Jarod.

"I control her."

Jarod took a deep breath and addressed the girl. "Mia, come here." He held his hand out to her. "Parker and I will take care of you. Come on, he can't do anything to you."

She stared at him with wide eyes. "But you _can_ do something to him." And she stayed where she was.

Jarod had been in many difficult and life-threatening situations before, but this seemed somehow more thorny and dangerous. He exhaled quietly wondering how to proceed with Mia. Timing was essential he knew; too soon and Lyle would hurt her, too late and the same would happen. Of course, he had other issues with Lyle and he hoped that as he pursued those avenues Mia would be enlightened enough to trust him over Lyle.

"Looks like she doesn't like you," Lyle over-enunciated the words. He wrapped her hair around his hand, entwining his fingers in the strands. "Too bad."

"What have you done to her Lyle?" Jarod demanded taking a step closer. "What is Project Heptagon? Did you torture her like you did me?"

Mia was indignant with his accusations. Lyle sensed that she was about to say something and put a silencing finger to her lips.

"I had nothing to do with Project Heptagon," he responded acrimoniously. "I didn't even know that the Seventh Member Project

was a part of a larger project."

Jarod shook his head in brusquely. "I don't believe you."

"Yeah, and I don't care what you believe."

"_Desperate times call for desperate measures"…_ Jarod didn't know why those words came to him in that moment but they did.

He turned back to Parker who was watching the altercation with distracted interest. Feeling his strong gaze on her, she looked up quizzically at him. His hand was extended out to her. At first, she didn't understand what he wanted, then it dawned on her- he wanted her gun.

She hated for _anyone_ to breathe on her gun, let alone handle it. However, she gave no argument to his request and handed it over.

She stepped closer to the Pretender and fixed her frosty glare onto her brother.

Generally any type of weapon felt awkward in his hand for the purpose of such devices repelled him. Yet some circumstance inevitably warranted their use. Oddly, the gun felt comfortable in his grip, especially when it was aimed at Lyle. Pushing down the guilt of the sinister feeling the weapon invoked in him, Jarod took several steps toward his nemesis with the gun trained steadily on him.

Mia moved to shield Lyle from Jarod, but Lyle held her firmly at his side. He could feel the heat of her irritation with him in her breath; irritation because he was not allowing her to do what she wanted.

Jarod advance on them further with an expression of grief, anger, and hatred.

"It's time to tell the Truth, Lyle."

_**Ladies and gentlemen- Step right up and see the man who told the Truth…**_

Lyle was unmoved by the Pretender's threat. "And what Truth would you like to hear, hmmm?"

"I want to know about Project Heptagon."

"Jarod," Parker pressed close to him. "This is pointless- you can't reason with a monster."

Though she spoke in hushed tones, the acoustics of the corridor carried her words to Lyle. He turned his attention to her.

"Funny you should mention that, Sis."

Parker turned on him. "What's so funny about it?" she inquired dryly. Her eyes sparked fire.

"Because you are absolutely right. I _am_ a monster," his mouth twisted into a bitter grin. "I am _their _monster."

"What are you talking about?"

"Jarod wants to know about Project Heptagon. Well, here we are."

_**Let on, load off, confess, cast off… At the mercy, the cat is out- drop the disguise… Spit it up, spit it out…**_

Jarod and Parker exchanged suspicious glances. Jarod cocked the gun.

"We're listening," he told the other man.

"You're looking at Project Heptagon," he said as though that much should be obvious. He struggled to stand up despite the gun that was aimed at him. "Or a part of it anyway. Mia here," he pulled the girl out from behind him and presented her to Jarod and

Parker as though she was a trophy, "is the only successful product of Raines' little venture: the perfect assassin. On the surface, she's sweet, innocent, and a perfect little angel. But here's the clincher- there's an artificial personality buried inside thanks to Raines which can be programmed at will with an injection of the Serum. Nasty little bugger that sub-personality," he glanced at the other two making sure he had their attention, "Remorseless killing machine it is."

"You said we," Parker pointed out. "What's your role in all this- Programmer, Executioner?"

Lyle gave her thin smile. "Don't you see? Mia's the Seventh Member- I'm the Sixth; an experiment gone awry."

With that he fell silent and refused to expound on how the experiment had failed.

_**And now, what you've all been waiting for, I give you: He who Suffers the Truth…**_

Parker watched as the scene before her unraveled very quickly with assiduous interest. She had deliberately chosen not to take an active part in the argument that was in full swing. Argument wasn't a completely accurate assessment she observed bemusedly.

The fight, if that what it could be called, involved Jarod yelling at Lyle who was mordantly taunting and provoking him while standing in fixed position against the wall. Mia stood close to Lyle as another silent observer.

Parker turned her gun over in her hand absently stroking the handle. She had retrieved it from Jarod who she knew wasn't going to use it anyway. Besides, if Lyle tried to run she wanted to be the one to stop him dead.

The argument escalated and just as it hit its peak, Jarod's tirade was abruptly interrupted by an enraged shriek from Mia who jumped in front of Lyle. Small and wiry, she was hardly a match for the Pretender; however, she was larger than life in her fury.

Under her impaling black glare, Jarod unconsciously backed away from her several steps.

"He _is _telling you the Truth," she challenged him. There was titanium edge to her tone.

Jarod was taken aback by the defense of Lyle. Clearly, Lyle had brainwashed her into believing that he was the virtuous one. His indignation rose as he thought of the unknown number of young girls who had suffered at Lyle's hand because they had trusted him. Jarod refused to allow that same fate to befall Mia, even if it meant removing her from Lyle's possession by force.

Mia, however, was not interested in being saved. She jerked away from him when he tried to touch her.

"Mia," Jarod's kind eyes were wide with distress, "Mia, you don't know the first thing about Lyle. I do. I've seen the horrors of what he's done, both for the Centre and for himself. He's just using you. He doesn't deserve your concern." He addressed the man behind her with wintry indifference. "Tell _her_ the Truth."

"No!" she exclaimed. "_You_ don't know the first thing about him! _They _created Mr. Lyle. _They _made him who he is. _I _saw the file.

_I _read it for myself. _You _need to the file for _yourself_!"

Jarod blinked. "What file?"

"The file for the Sixth Member," she said shortly. "It's in the air shaft inside of Raines' office with my file. You _Truth_ is there."

She retreated to Lyle who seemed relieved to have her by his side again. Mia glared at Jarod and Parker. Jarod remained still.

Parker moved in next to him, staring hard at her brother with mixed emotion.

"But that would mean…" Parker's voice trailed off with uncertainty.

"Yes," Mia retorted dryly. "That would mean that Bobby was a participant in Project Heptagon and an unwilling one at that."

"But you were the only Project member to survive."

"No," she corrected the other woman. "I was the only _success_. The first five members died, but the Sixth did not."

"How's that possible?" Jarod stipulated.

Mia rolled her eyes skyward as though exasperated that she had to explain. "The Serum was corrected after the fifth trial failed, but it wasn't perfected. The Serum didn't suppress the Primary personality like it was supposed to and during simulations with the Sub-Personality, the Primary resurfaced. There were complications and the two personalities became intertwined." Mia paused to catch her breath and she could tell by the look on their faces that they still didn't fully comprehend. "Don't you get it," she went on. "All of seven members were supposed to be like me, but it didn't happen. Five died and Bobby got royally screwed up in the process. Thanks to Raines, he now has to take injections of the Serum for the rest of his life." She turned on Jarod and addressed him directly. "That's the horror _I've _seen. _I've _seen what happens to him when he doesn't take the shots."

Obviously, Mia firmly believed every detail of her tragic story. And it was a sad tale indeed, but experience warned Jarod to be cautious as the chronicle could be nothing more than a cleverly fabricated lie concocted by Lyle.

"That may be," Jarod replied diffidently. "But that's no excuse for the things he's done."

"I didn't say it was," she returned crossly. She stared at the floor for a moment. When she looked back up at Jarod, her harsh expression was somewhat alleviated. "Look," she took a deep breath as she embarked on what she knew to be a touchy subject.

"I am so sorry about what happened to your brother. I really am. And you're right there is no excuse for it." She saw the pain surface in his countenance; her heart ached for him almost as much as it did for Lyle. She nearly reached out for him, to offer some comfort, but she refrained knowing that Lyle would see such a gesture as an act of betrayal.

He couldn't meet her eyes as he tried to quell the anguish that rose in him. "How do you know about Kyle?"

"Bobby told me."

Jarod lifted his tear-filled eyes to Lyle. His breathing was raspy and heavy. "How dare you," his voice shook with quiet fury. "You had no right to discuss Kyle with anyone!"

"Boohoo," was Lyle's only comment.

The Pretender lunged for him but the girl blocked his path. His clenched fists trembled with the tension that invaded his body and his teeth ground together in irritation. His attention returned to Mia. "Did _Bobby _also tell you about his wife? His _dead_ wife" he lashed out without remorse.

She looked stricken. Her sympathy turned to hostility. "I know all about Shei Lin."

Surprise registered in Jarod's countenance, but quickly vanished. "Did he also mention his fixation with young, Asian girls?"

Parker watched with morbid curiosity as Lyle jerked to attention at this comment. He actually appeared nervous.

A change came over the girl who went from a seraph to a banshee instantaneously. She shrieked at him like an enraged parakeet.

"I know more about him than you do! There's nothing you can tell me that I don't already know!"

In a flash, Jarod had her pinned to the wall by her shoulders, eye-level with him and ready to call her bluff. "Listen to me!" he growled. "I'm trying to help you- stop fighting me and listen! Did you know that Shei Ling was murdered… by her husband?"

He wasn't being cruel, rather trying to shock her into reality since nothing else was getting to her. However, the reaction he got what not what he intended. A look drifted into her eyes that gave him the distinct impression that she did, indeed, know much more about Lyle than he did. Internally, he shivered.

Her voice was tightly controlled and very low when she answered him. "You don't _know _that. _You _can't prove anything. _You _don't have any evidence."

"What. Did. He. Tell. You?"

A peculiar smile fell over her face. In a singsong way, she answered, "I'll never te-el."

Unconsciously and certainly unintentionally, Jarod intensified the pressure on her shoulders until she cried out. Her cry brought Lyle physically into the melee, which also drew in Parker.

Lyle staggered forward unsteadily ignoring the searing pain that inflamed his every move. He practically fell onto Jarod when he attempted to pull the Pretender off of Mia. His action, though klutzy, was so sudden that it triggered an instinctive response in

Parker. She raised her gun and took aim at her brother of whom she now had a clear shot.

An indistinguishable din of voices filled the small passageway as the four different personalities collided in a head-on collision.

Finally, Parker had had enough.

The sudden sound of a gun discharging replaced the ruckus.

_**When I was younger I thought the world circled around me… But in time, I realized I was wrong- my immortal thoughts turned into just dreams of a dead future… It was a tragic case of my reality…**_

Time froze for a brief moment. Three sets of eyes turned to stare at Parker and then at the hole where the bullet had pierced the ceiling. Slowly, she lowered the gun back to waist-level; her face was as grim as death.

"That's enough," she stated flatly. "Back over to your corner, Lyle." She motioned to the corner with the nose of the gun.

Lyle backed away from Jarod, but did not fully comply with her orders. He braced himself against the wall and stood before her in defiance. "Leave it to Dad's perfect Angel to save the day."

"Leave it to Dad's perfect demon to destroy the day," she shot back without hesitation.

"And that's how it was meant to be."

She swore at him. "Start talking sense, Lyle."

"Make me."

"Don't tempt me." She lowered the gun a bit. It was not that Parker was incapable of compassion for her brother, she was merely wary of such concern. For it seemed that whenever she did begin to feel sympathy for him, something always came to light that showed her exactly how misguided her feelings were. Better to be overly cautious now and find later that his claims (and Mia's) were true, rather than not be and end up regretting it.

He eyed her contemptuously. "These roles were decided for us from the moment we were born, probably before," his words slurred slightly with exhaustion. "You are the loved one and I am the whipping-boy."

"_If_ you really were apart of Heptagon, then it's unforgivable what they did to you," she replied sincerely, yet still on guard. "But you can't keeping use the past as an excuse; you have to assume responsibility for your actions."

His head bowed slightly and breathing became labored as his strength faded. "So noble," he grunted bitterly. "It's easy for you to stand in judgment of me when you lived the perfect life."

"My life was far from perfect!" she snapped back, irate. "My mother was murdered!"

"So was mine!" he shouted at her. Winded and unable to sustain his position, he slid back to the floor. "Only I never knew her! You don't know how lucky you are- you know that at least two people in this miserable world love you: Mom _and_ Dad!" He was forced to stop speaking and spit blood from his mouth. Mia was by his side again, protectively standing guard.

_**Do you think you're indestructible and no one can touch you? Well, I think you're disposable… And it's time you knew the truth cause it's just one of my lies!**_

For the first time, there was silence in the corridor. Parker was stunned by Lyle's outburst; stunned by his loss of control of his emotions; stunned by his admission. Lyle was furious with himself for losing his cool and tired… tired of everything.

Having had the chance to significantly calm down and regain his composure, Jarod was able to think clearly. He glanced between

Lyle and Mia and Parker. No one moved.

Finally, Lyle turned his head and pressed his face into Mia's back, stifling the scream that tore from him.

_**Why does my life have to be so small? Yet death is forever and does forever have a life to call its own? Don't give me an answer cause you only know as much as I know… Unless you're been there once… Well, I hardly think so… **_

Jarod inched close to Parker. Silently, his eyes searched hers. He was either asking her something or searching for something; she didn't know which and he did not voice his thoughts.

She shifted, uncomfortable with his close proximity. As she did, the lapel of her jacket crackled to life. Jarod looked at her quizzically.

"Parker?" Sydney's voice surmounted the static. "Parker, are you all right? What's going on?"

"Everything's just dandy," she reported acerbically. "Just having a little chat with Lyle and his pet."

"Is Jarod with you?"

"I'm here, Sydney," the Pretender verified himself.

"Have you found anything," Parker cut in.

"No… Broots is still searching, but Parker…"

"What?"

"Raines' men have returned."

"Any sign of Raines or my father?"

"No."

"Keep watch out, Syd."

She cut the connection and turned to Jarod. "We need to get out of here."

Jarod glanced at Lyle and Mia. "We can't leave her."

"If she won't go, I see no reason in forcing her. Let her stay with him."

"I can help her," his eyes pleaded with her. "I know I can."

"How?" Parker furrowed her brow. "Help her what?"

"If I can get a hold of that information on Heptagon, I can create an antidote to the Serum. I know I can."

"I'm sure you can," she muttered. She wasn't thrilled about the prospect of remaining in the sub-level any longer. She didn't want to be trapped by Raines' goons.

"Please…"

"Five minutes," she told him. "You've got five minutes to convince her to come with us. Starting now."

Her hands trembled as she smoothed his matted hair back from his forehead. He was drifting in and out of consciousness now, slightly delirious. She was worried, tired, confused, and afraid. A tear escaped down her cheek.

Jarod stepped as close as he dared to her. Her head jerked up sharply as he knelt down several feet away and she eyed him

cagily.

"Mia."

His face was gentle and his eyes tender; his was a trustworthy face. And she wanted to believe him, but there was a conflict of interest.

"Mia," he said again. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier. I shouldn't have."

She shrugged and looked away. "S'okay."

"I want to help you."

"I don't need help," she said quietly. "I appreciate it, but I've got Bobby."

Jarod gritted his teeth. "If he really has told you so much about himself, doesn't it bother you just a little bit? Aren't you just a little bit concerned?"

"The past is the past. People change." She didn't sound as confident as she had earlier and she didn't meet his gaze.

Jarod caught her hesitance, but did not press her on it. He smiled slightly. "I remember you now," he said.

She gave him a funny look but said nothing.

"You waited on me at the DT-UT," he went on. "You showed me how to put together a s'more."

Mia's eyes lit up. "Yeah, yeah, sure," the corners of her mouth turned up. "I can't believe you didn't know what a s'more was."

"I never had a chance to discover them," he said with a tinge of sadness in his voice. "I never had the chance to discover a lot of things, things you take for granted."

"Like what?"

"Like ice cream, bubble gum," his smile broadened slightly. "Pez."

She wrinkled her nose rather than giggling aloud. "Why not?"

"Because they wouldn't let me," his expression sobered. "There were a lot of things that the Centre wouldn't let me do and a lot

of things they made me do."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." He paused then added. "It doesn't have to be like that for you though."

"What do you mean?" she asked skeptically.

"You have people who care about you. I met your co-worker Kaylee."

"You did?"

"Yes. She wanted me to find you and ask you to call her. She's worried about you."

"Oh."

"You have a family out there, Mia. A family who loves and misses you very much."

"No, I don't."

"Yes," he insisted. "I know you can't remember them, but they exist. I met your grandmother and your brother, Mario. You have a sister too."

"No, I don't."

"Mia…"

"No," she met his gaze with an intense look in her eyes. "I really don't. Not anymore. Maria committed suicide four years ago."

Jarod looked perplexed. "You remember then?"

She sighed. "Not everything. Bits and pieces. I can't recall much of anything that happened after Maria's funeral."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know how horrible it is to loose your family. I'm still searching for mine. But, Mia, yours is out there and they want you back."

The child-like expression in his eyes drew her to him and in some ways, ways she could recall anyway, he reminded her of her beloved brother, Mario. She felt Lyle stir next to her. Absently, she wrapped her petite fingers around his larger ones. With the back of her free hand she rubbed her eyes wearily.

"But what about all the terrible things I've done. All those people I k…"

She was white as death, distraught over the evil deeds she had been made to carry out- Jarod knew she had a good heart and spirit and it made him more determined than ever to get her away from Lyle and the Centre.

"That wasn't your fault," he assured her. "The Centre used you. You had no choice. You're not responsible."

She was quiet for several seconds, staring at her fingers that were entangled with Lyle's. Finally, she spoke again.

"How can you be so forgiving of me and what I've done, yet be so condemning of Bobby?" her voice was calm and even. There was no trace of anger in it, only sadness. "We're were in the same situations, just our outcomes were different."

The weight of her words hit him like a ton of bricks- there was some validity to her statement. "You're right," he conceded. "_But_, Lyle still knows the difference between right and wrong and chooses to do wrong anyway. You don't have that choice."

"I still don't think you should hold a double-standard. If I'm not a fault for what I've done, then I don't think Bobby should be either. But if you are going to hold him responsible then you have to do the same to me."

Jarod stayed still; he's hit another roadblock with Mia- it was obvious she wasn't going to budge on this.

Parker leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Three minutes and counting."

Jarod leaned forward slightly. "Mia, I can reverse what they did to you."

For the first time she seemed truly attuned to him. "You can do that?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. I mean I'll have to get the files you mentioned and go over the DSAs, but I can create the

antidote. I'll help you get away from the Centre and arrange it so they'll never find you or your family. They'll never be able to use you again. You can have a normal life."

"You can do that," she said again very softly. She wanted more than anything in the world than to forget everything that had happened recently and remember what she'd lost. His offer was more than a little tempting, but…

"Will you do the same for Bobby?"

Jarod blinked. Truthfully, he hadn't given such a matter any consideration, but now that he thought about it...

"I'm not sure that can be done," he disclosed tentatively. At her disappointed frown and withdrawal, he hastily added, "What I mean is it may do him more harm if his psyche is really that tangled. I don't have enough information to make a judgment one way or another."

"Oh." Her eyes were filled with enormous sadness. "You said you could make it so the Centre could never find me. When you say the Centre," she bit her bottom lip almost afraid to finish her question, "do you mean Bobby, too?"

Jarod sighed. "Especially Bobby. Mia, I know you don't understand or don't want to understand, but he's dangerous. You'd never be safe if you maintained any contact with him. I can only do so much. I'll create the antidote, but _you _have to leave everything connected to the Centre behind."

Her lips pressed tightly together as tears spilled silently down her face. Hugging her knees close to her chest, she rested her chin on her arm and closed her eyes. She felt Lyle tighten his fingers around her ever so slightly.

"Mia," Jarod caught sight of Parker impatiently tapping her watch, letting him know that time was running out. "I know you have a good heart and want to help Lyle. But don't fool yourself into believing you can change him. He'd ended up pulling you down to his

level."

"But how do you know unless you try?"

"_He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. _Have you ever heard that before?

She nodded.

"Then do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

She lifted her chin. "Yes, and you're probably right, but…"

"But what?"

"But how long have you been looking into the abyss?" It was a rhetorical question, but one that begged to be asked.

The question struck a chord with him and he knew she had a point. However, he would have to dwell on that at a later time. He stood and stretched out a hand to her.

"Come on," he cajoled. "You deserve a second chance. And so does your family."

She stared at his extended hand, struggling with her quandary. Strangely, his hand seemed to get closer and closer.

He was not oblivious to what was transpiring and what Jarod was attempting to do. He saw her indecisiveness as well and decided to make her choice for her.

His abrupt rise startled her. He seemed to have caught a second wind of strength.

"Get out of here," he told her cruelly, tossing her hand to the side.

She stared at him in shock as he tottered out of her reach. "What? Bobby…"

"No," he commanded piercingly. "No. Don't call me Bobby- it's Mr. Lyle."

Mia turned desperate, imploring eyes to Jarod who saw this as the perfect opportunity to leave. She turned her back to her when he did nothing.

"Bobby, please don't do this…"

He turned his head to the side so that his face was obscured by shadows.

_Don't go..._

_**I tried to kill the pain but only brought more… I lay dying and I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal… I'm dying, praying, bleeding, and screaming… Am I too lost to be saved… Am I too lost?**_

"Spare me your pity," he said darkly. "You've made your decision. Go on, leave with him."

"I haven't made any decision yet." She pushed herself away from the floor and straightened up. "Don't tell me what to do!"

He grunted scathingly. "You never told me that you had met _him _before. You were planning on going with him all along! You lying Delilah, hypocritical little..."

"That's not fair!" Mia cried in disbelief. "I didn't tell you because I didn't know who he was! If I had I would have told you."

In the shadows, his face twisted in agony, but the agony was not from a physical pain.

_**My God- my tourniquet- return to me salvation…**_

She attempted to get closer to him to try to read his expression, but he refused. Every time she tried, he would either move away or push her away. She ran her hand through her hand in frustration, then glanced over her shoulder at Jarod and Parker.

"Bobby, please," she said in a hushed voice meant for his ears only. "Talk to me. I- I don't know what you want from me?

Sometimes it seems like you want me around and sometimes it seems like you don't. Which is it? What do you want?"

He knew exactly what he wanted to say to her, but either stubbornness or arrogance prevented it. Instead he spat, "I told you- it's Mr. Lyle."

"Stop it," anger was seeping into her voice. "You owe me some sort of explanation! I've followed you without questioning; I've done what you've asked. At least tell me why you suddenly don't want me anymore!"

"You would've gone with him anyway! It was only a matter of time!"

_**Do you remember me lost for so long? Will you be on the other side or will you forget me? I'm dying, praying, bleeding, and screaming… Am I too lost to be saved… Am I too lost?**_

"You are so full of it!"

He turned his slightly as to see her better. "You want the truth?" his words were laced with derision and malice. "I never wanted you. Never! It was just a game- I got what I wanted. And now I don't want you."

Her jaw dropped; he might as well have shot her in the back. Was Jarod right? Had Lyle been using her all along? She felt sick. It couldn't be true; she refused to believe it.

He raised his chin to meet her disillusioned gaze. His expression was hard and merciless, but his eyes betrayed him.

_Don't go…_

_**My wounds cry for the grave… My soul cries for deliverance… Will I be denied? Tourniquet my suicide…**_

* * *

_**I still remember the world from the eyes of a child… Slowly those feelings were clouded by what I know now…**_

She felt numbingly cold and there was nothing that could warm her. She stood between the two men with Parker edgily looking on.

On one side, she was being offered her life back; a life that, up until several days ago, she did not know had been taken from her.

On the other side, well, she wasn't quite sure what was on her other side, if there even was another side.

She felt certain that Jarod was who he claimed to be and the safe decision, the practical decision, was to go with him.

_But what about Bobby?_

_**Where has my heart gone? An uneven trade for the real world… I want to go back to believing in everything and knowing nothing at all…**_

She wasn't completely sure of what would happen if she went with Lyle. He had made no promises, offered no assurances, or pledge of security. He was volatile and carried a lot of baggage with him. He was a dangerous risk to take.

_Maybe too dangerous…_

_**I still remember the sun- always warm on my back… Somehow it seems colder now…**_

"Mia," Jarod took a step forward. "We have to go now."

She looked back to Lyle. "I-I…"

"You can't really be considering staying?"

She blew her bangs from her eyes. She looked up at him, pained and torn, but decisive nonetheless. "You believe in helping people?"

He frowned. "Yes."

"Do you believe in second chances?"

"Yes."

"I believe that, too." She swallowed hard still in conflict and completely unsure if she was doing the right thing. She stepped towards him. "The easiest and probably the smartest thing to do would to be say yes to you."

He looked hopeful.

"And," she continued, "the most difficult thing would be to go with Bobby."

She took another step forward and reached for the hand he had extended once more. "Sometimes the right thing is the hardest to do."

She grasped his hand tightly. Their eyes locked. Jarod inhaled a shaky breath. "I hope you find your family, Jarod."

She released his hand and slipped out of his grip. She turned to the spot where Lyle had been moments earlier. Her heart dropped to her feet when she realized that he was gone.

_**Where has my heart gone- trapped in the eyes of a stranger? I want to go back to believing in everything…**_


	22. What Lies Beneath

**Chapter 21: What Lies Beneath**

"_A man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well".  
- Sir Francis Bacon_

_

* * *

_

She had left Jarod and Miss Parker through the exit Lyle had presumably departed by- one that had been hidden in the darkness. Escaping the corridor was simple; the difficult part was finding Lyle in the labyrinth of passages. She brought to mind the schematic drawing of the Centre, but it was useless since it couldn't tell her which way he would have gone.

Taking a gamble and praying she was right, Mia turned and followed a passageway to the left. She stumbled through the halls that seemed to stretch forever. Drained, Mia paused to rest, propping herself up with her hand against the wall. Tiny tremors vibrated through the cement to her palm as though something deep within the building had awakened and was now moving through the Centre. With an intense sense of foreboding, Mia hurried on.

Just when the situation seemed utterly hopeless she heard a muffled sound coming from somewhere nearby. As she got closer to the source, the sound became more discernable, though it was still hard to tell if it was heavy uneven breathing or sobbing. After a series of wrong turns and backtracking, she finally found him crumpled on the cold floor, shivering violently.

There was little she could offer him in warmth for she was herself freezing. She crouched down next to him and reached out to touch him. His hair, still damp, felt like icicles.

"Bobby." Her soft voice echoed around them.

He sat up quickly- too quickly.

She edged closer and gently touched the left side of his face. He jerked involuntarily, quaking even more fiercely. Mia worried that his trembling signaled the need for another shot, which they did not have.

"Bobby."

His left eye twitched as it slowly opened while his right eye remained swollen shut. He blinked his good eye at she as she caught sight of his damaged hand. The bandage was completely soaked in blood.

"Oh!" her breath caught in her throat. "Bobby, we've got to get you out of here."

His lips moved to form a question, but no sound came out.

"Can you move at all?"

A frown marred his bruised visage. "Wa-" he attempted. Closing his eye, he inhaled as deeply as he could. "What are you doing here?" he finally croaked out.

A bemused smile graced her lips. "What do you think?" she chided warmly.

"Dreaming…" he murmured vaguely. "I'm hallucinating…"

"No, you're not."

He reopened his eye and stared her in unveiled incredulity. Mia pressed the back of his left hand against her lips affectionately as their gazes connected. It was in that moment that it dawned on her exactly how badly she could be hurt if things did not go well between them. A small sigh escaped from her.

"We have to get out of here," she repeated with urgency.

"No," he said hoarsely.

She blinked. "No?"

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

He tried to moisten his lips, but his mouth was too dry to do any good. "Go back. Leave with _them_. I'm not leaving and I _don't _want you around. So go."

Biting back an angry retort, she clenched her teeth until she could answer calmly. "Do you really mean it?" she asked evenly. "Do you really not want me?"

"Yes," he said after a hesitant pause. He dodged her eyes. "I have business to attend here and I am not going to play babysitter at the same time. You'll just be in the way.

"And exactly how are you going to 'attend to business'?" she asked a tad reproachfully. "You can't even crawl out of here."

"I'll manage," he snapped. He grimaced in pain and his right hand went to his ribs. "I've _always_ managed on _my_ own. I don't need you or any one else. So go on- go away!"

She didn't believe him. Oh, he sounded quite serious, but though his words were harsh and biting, there was something so despondent in his eyes that she knew he was lying.

"Fine," she shrugged insolently as she stood. "Have it your way. If you're going to let your ego get the best of you, then fine. I _will_ go and leave you to your misery."

To his great surprise, she actually walked away and disappeared into the passage she came from.

He sat there, waiting for her to return for he fully expected her to come running back at any moment. All was still; expect for a strange pulsing he could feel in the wall.

She did not come back.

He never thought that she would leave him; she simply wasn't the type- she was the puppy-dog kind: loyal, devoted, the unquestioning shadow. And yet she was gone.

His heart began to pound as he worried that he may have pushed too hard, that he had underestimated her. The horrible realization that he was alone sent him into a panic. He moved as swiftly as his body would allow him, crawling awkwardly into the corridor.

"Mia!" He was incapable of projecting his voice above a whisper.

He had barely gone ten feet into the hall when his body, crying in agony, gave out on him. He fell flat on his stomach. His throbbing left hand landed on bare toes.

_Huh…?_

It sunk in pieces at a time until he understood that she had never left him- she just let him think that she had. He certainly _had_ underestimated her.

He had to roll onto his side in order to see her. As he did, she knelt in front of him. He was fully prepared for a triumphant sneer or vicious smirk to be on her face now that she knew she had some control over him. Any one else would have, but it was not anyone else, it was Mia. Her sad eyes were kind, her tiny smile was compassionate, and her small hand was offered in friendship. He did not know how to respond.

Once he was sitting up, she again urged him to leave. Then he explained his earlier refusal.

"No," It was difficult to speak when his mouth and throat were so parched. "Raines will be back and I'm not leaving until he's suffered as much as I have."

"Bobby," she bit her bottom lip through a frown. "I understand that you want to see him pay- so do I- but now's not the time. You've got to take care of yourself _first_, then go after Raines."

He muttered disjointedly.

"Besides," she went on, nervously glancing about. She pressed her palm against the wall. "Something strange is going on down here and I've got a bad feeling about it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Earlier, while I was still locked up, I over heard Miss Parker tell Sydney that the Centre was empty, there was hardly anyone left in it. And, well, you heard Sydney tell her that Raines' men are back. I don't like it, Bobby, not at all."

"Are you sure about this?" Lyle seemed greatly perturbed and his demeanor changed noticeably.

"I'm sure of what I heard."

He nodded grimly. "Help me up."

She willingly obliged his order. He was heavier than she had anticipated, but she got his arm around her shoulders and supported him at the waist as best as she could. Awkwardly, they made their way out of the sub-level.

"You know," she said at length. "I never would have actually left you."

He snorted disdainfully. "That's because you're incapable of following directions."

The comment was snarky, but she didn't miss the gratitude that was hidden in it.

**_

* * *

Per Sydney's warning, Parker and Jarod were leaving the sublevel, or at least trying to. Parker always felt enormously disturbed after speaking to her brother, but this time she was bothered for a different reason. She vowed to herself that as soon as she got out of the current mess they were in, she was going have one long heart-to-heart with baby brother, even if it killed them. She wanted that file that was supposedly hidden in the airshaft and had sent Broots to fetch it, but she wanted it in her hands. A matter of no more than fifteen minutes should have stood between her and Lyle's file, but as usual, things did not go according to her plans._**

Jarod checked up abruptly and turned around several times with a mystified frown on his face.

"What is it?" Parker growled impatiently.

"Do you know where we are?"

Parker swore. "This is no time for games, Jarod. Let's go."

When the Pretender did not move, Parker became more aware of their surroundings. Though they had been going up, she was certain they had been, it appeared that somehow they had actually _descended_ further into the bowels of the Centre.

"This is impossible," Jarod murmured to himself. He shot Parker a bewildered look.

She would never admit it, but Jarod's confusion frightened her. If he couldn't figure out what was happening, how would they get out?

A deafening boom from what sounded like a million men marching thundered around them. They found themselves standing incredible close to one another. Jarod's hand gripped hers as the sublevel was suddenly flooded by a multitude of Black Coats.

Parker tried to pull out his grip, but he held fast and pulled her after him. Without knowing where they going, the duo tried desperately to stay one step ahead of the strange men. At one point, Parker felt her waistband suddenly loosened as her gun somehow managed to work itself free. It clattered to the ground.

"My gun!" she yelped and tried to go back for it, but Jarod wouldn't let her. The spot where the gun had fallen was now overrun with Black Coats. Time after time, they narrowly avoided being exposed by one of the men. Finally, Jarod saw a narrow opening where he thought they might be safe until the threat had passed. The passage was narrow and, while Parker slide through with ease, it was more difficult for Jarod. It was after they had both gotten through that they realized they had inadvertently stumbled upon a terrific finding.

They were on a catwalk type of structure that overlooked a massive fallout shelter type of room. Swarming in from every side were the Black Coats. Parker glanced around Jarod and saw a better, more covered place to watch the bizarre proceedings. They settled in just in time to see Mr. White take the floor.

Once the room was filled from wall to wall with Black Coats, Mr. White moved forward to speak. An eerie stillness fell over the assembled. Four Black Coats, shorter in stature than their counterparts in the congregation, flanked White two on each side. White cleared his throat and began in on an elaborate greeting to the mass.

As they watched the bizarre sight, Jarod heard a crackling in his ear.

"What was that?" He questioned Parker with a disturbed frown.

"What was what?"

"That sound."

She listened, but heard nothing. With a skeptical glance, she turned her attention back to White. "You're hearing things," she said. "Now shut up before we miss something."

"As you are all aware," White's voice suddenly spiked in volume and intensity, "we have a very serious situation on our hands. Somehow, we have lost Mr. Lyle again and no one has ever recovered Amelia. This is unacceptable."

An alarmed murmur rippled through the crowd.

"Mr. Raines will return in forty-eight hours to initiate _Dominatus_ but we _are not ready!_" White glared threateningly at the crowd. "The project cannot proceed without all seven members alive and accounted for. It cannot possibly be that difficult to find and capture one man and a little girl." He motioned to the men on either side of him and they stepped forward. "You have your orders," he snapped intolerantly. "Find Mr. Lyle and the girl. Your collective consciousness and the future of _Dominatus _depend on it!"

Parker wrapped her hand around Jarod's collar and jerked him close. "Okay, Genius," she hissed in a low voice. "What is he talking about? Lyle said that that the original five members where killed during the experiment."

"Yes," Jarod said slowly, still processing the information they just heard. "That's what Mia said too."

"Why that lying…!" Parker cursed, feeling like slamming her fist into something or better yet, someone. "I _knew_ better than to believe _anything _he says!"

"I'm not so sure he was lying," Jarod replied, surprising himself as much as Parker.

"Care to explain that?"

"I don't know what Lyle knows about all this, but _something_ is not right."

Parker stared at him like he just spoken Latin. "Apparently I need a translator because I have no idea what you just said."

"What I mean," he said seriously, trying to compose his thoughts, "There must be something holding Lyle back from participating in whatever it is Raines is trying to do. Maybe he does know what _Dominatus_ is and that why he's resisting _or _he's resisting because he doesn't know what it is."

"Maybe," Parker responded absently, pondering his last statement.

Jarod's ears popped with the same crackling sound he heard earlier. "What _is_ that!"

"_What!"_ Parker twisted to face him and as she did a piercing whine ripped through the entire room catching the attention of those below them.

It took Jarod but a moment to diagnosis the problem. "Parker!" He reached for her jacket's lapel. She didn't know what he was doing and slapped his hand away.

"Are you out of your mind?" she snapped. The squeal intensified with every move she made.

Jarod was acutely aware that the crowd beneath them was disbanding to search for them. "Parker," he said again. "The mike!" He reached around her and snatched the wire from her jacket.

Finally understanding, Parker aided him in the removal of the concealed communication device but it was too late; their cover was completely blown.

By the time Mr. White reached the spot where the intruders had been hiding, all that was left was a discarded electronic gadget. White picked up the device and turned it over in his hands with a dismal frown. They had been infiltrated; Mr. Raines would not be pleased.

* * *

He had been sleeping for several hours, but Mia was not so fortunate. Once they had gotten away from the Centre, Lyle had made it as far as his car before collapsing. Luckily, he remained conscious enough to direct to her to his Blue Cove residence and to obdurately refuse medical treatment.

She sat on the edge of his bed, watching him with a cheerless expression. Quietly, she stood and pulled the comforter up over his shoulders and tucked him in with a sigh. Fidgety, she wandered from the small bedroom and explored the rest of his place.

There was absolutely nothing inviting about the apartment. Tasteful Asian décor was interspersed with the ultra-modern layout, but did little to bring any warmth to the area. The kitchen, like the rest of the place, was austerely spotless. There were no dishes in the cabinets and only bottled water in the refrigerator. Even his closet was virtually barren with only a few clothes neatly hung from the rails. She expected him to have a large wardrobe and noted that none of the expensive suits he always wore where anywhere to be seen. She wondered if he had another closet somewhere, but, feeling she had intruded enough, returned to the bedroom. She took with her a small chair from the living room, though "living" was hardly an adjective that could be used to describe _any_ room in the house. She scolded herself for being so paranoid; maybe he was just obsessive-compulsive and he was most comfortable with his house that way.

She set the chair close to the side of the bed and figured he could yell at her for moving his stuff when he woke up. She watched his agitated sleep in a bed that was so narrow he could barely turn over without falling out. The longer she watched him the more she became certain that he did not sleep in this room. She had nothing to substantiate this except strong intuition.

When Lyle finally woke up, Mia was leaning forward in her chair with her head resting on the bed next to his shoulder with one hand on his arm. He rolled over with a groan and stared at the ceiling. Painfully, he hauled himself out of bed and gathered a change of clothes before locking himself in the bathroom. He staggered to the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was surprised that his face wasn't as injured as it felt. With careful, exaggerated movements he opened and closed his mouth examining the pain in his jaw. Eventually, he made it to the shower.

The heat of the water steamed up the bathroom and, for a time, relieved his physical agony. It annoyed him tremendously to find he could do little more than stand under the showerhead as his range of motion was so limited that he could hardly bathe himself. Once the dried blood was sufficiently rinsed off of his person, he slammed the water off.

The roar of the exhaust fan drowned out the chatter in his head as it sucked the moisture from the room. He doctored his wounds as best he could, saving his hand and foot until he had finished dressing. As he bandaged his damaged hand, he worried over the strange color surrounding the stump of his thumb; he had never seen it quite that color before. Pushing the concern out of his mind, he scrubbed the bathroom until it looked it like it did before he used it.

Mia was awake when he returned to the bedroom and sitting Indian-style in the chair. "Are you all right?" she asked apprehensively.

"Yeah," he muttered shortly, sitting onto the foot of the bed to put his socks and dress shoes on.

"You were in there a long time."

"Sorry."

"Can I do anything?"

"No." He struggled to put the dark socks on, but he could not force his body to comply. Frustrated, he took a shoe and slammed it into the floor.

Without a word, she sank to her knees in front of him and discreetly helped him. He didn't fight. It was such a small thing, but it had such a large impact on him.

"I still think you should see a doctor," she said after she was through. She regarded him with fret.

"I plan on it," he said, standing up laboriously. "Come on, I need you to drive."

"Where are we going?" She asked following him.

"New York City."

"The City? There's no doctor in Blue Cove you can go to?"

"The doctor I want is based in the City."

"Who?"

"Viktor Puccini."

"Bobby…" Mia wedged herself in between Lyle and the door. "This isn't the time for that. Please, just see a real doctor first."

"Later," he said firmly. "We have a plane to catch."

Mia argued no further, took the keys, and trailed after him. Suddenly, he turned back to her looking supremely annoyed.

"What?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"I can't take it anymore," he said eyeing her lower body. "You have to change!"

"Huh?"

"Get out of my pants!"

She stared at him for a moment. He glared at her, standing with his hands on his hips, but after a moment his head bowed.

"I mean, I can't stand those clothes on you," he barked. "You know what I mean."

"Uh-huh." She held her hands out to the side and let them fall against her thighs. "I don't exactly have many clothing options."

"Come," he said, turning his back on her. "We'll pick up something on the way."

_**

* * *

They slipped easily pass the nurse who was wrapped up in a website that was hardly related to her job. A sign on Puccini's door proclaimed: The doctor is **__OUT._They slipped easily pass the nurse who was wrapped up in a website that was hardly related to her job. A sign on Puccini's door proclaimed: The doctor is 

Lyle forced the poorly secured door open. The office was dark and he did not bother looking for a light source. Mia, now wearing a fitted black jogging suit, clutched the back of his shirt, partly out of nerves and partly to avoid tripping over something.

"What are we looking for?" she whispered.

"Puccini."

"But he's not here."

"I know."

"Then why are _we_ here?"

"Because _he _will be."

She fell silent unable to shake the ominous presentiment in her gut.

With every move he made, Lyle found he had a shadow not his own stuck to him. After a series of annoyed grunts, he spun around to face her. However, she moved perfectly in sync with him. He tried thrice more to no avail. Feeling like a dog chasing his tail, Lyle finally stood still, reached behind his back, and grabbed the hand that was cemented to him. He tugged her out in front of him.

They were standing next to Puccini's desk and Lyle rolled out the doctor's chair. He glanced around for a moment and saw a space in between the wall and a file cabinet. He directed Mia to stand in the gap and stay hidden. Then he seated himself behind the desk.

The door to the office swung open several minutes later. Puccini entered with his head down and his attention on the files in his hand. Inattentively, he flipped on the lights. He turned to his desk and stopped cold. The folders fell from his grasp.

The shock that registered in the man's eyes brought a devilish smile to Lyle's lips. "Hello, Doctor," he purred. As he studied the man with a distinctly evil look, something within the recesses of his memory stirred.

Puccini knew that he wasn't being paid a social visit. There was something so familiar about the man at his desk. His mind went into overdrive trying to match the face with a name. Looking beyond the injuries, he finally saw…

"Robert?" He stared slack-jawed at his former patient.

"It's Mr. Lyle," he was callously informed.

Puccini had heard all about the infamous Mr. Lyle, the man Robert Bowman had grown into. He shivered.

Lyle leaned forward, still a frightening force in spite of the injuries. His hand were lying before him, black-gloved fingers interlaced with bare ones. "I want answers," he said darkly.

He knew this day would occur at some point. Puccini paced the floor in front of the desk impatiently, lost in his thoughts. Finally, he stopped and faced the other man. Whatever doubts and fears he had were placed aside as he assumed the role of psychoanalyst.

"Yes, of course, Robert," he said genially. By his tone and body language it would appear that Puccini was not even going to attempt to challenge Lyle. However, by refusing to call his ex-patient by his pseudonym, Puccini was, in fact, asserting that he was the one in control of the situation. "Robert, do you know who I am?"

Lyle's mouth twisted into a frown. "Would I be here if I didn't?"

"Point taken, Robert," the doctor said with a laugh.

Lyle wasn't unaware of what Puccini was attempting to do. He growled. "My name is Mr. Lyle. I suggest you commit that to memory, Doctor."

Puccini turned slightly, studying Lyle thoughtfully. "And why is that?" he inquired, genuinely interested. "Why did you choose Mr. Lyle?"

Lyle responded by grounding his teeth together until his jaw hurt. He wasn't about to play that game- no one was going to get into his head.

"Mr. Lyle," the doctor continued musing. "That is what your father made you call him, isn't it? I suppose it makes some sort of sense. You accrued quite a terrifying resume I know and to do so you assumed the name of the most terrifying person you know- your father. Fascinating."

Puccini was enormously fortunate that Lyle did not have his gun. "Mr. Lyle is _not_ my father," he spat out each word. "And he never was."

"Yes, yes, that's right," Puccini chattered on as though they had nothing better to do. He acted as like he had just remembered an interesting piece of trivia. "It must nice for you to be reunited with your father and twin sister. It's just a pity you never knew you biological mother. Beautiful woman Catherine was."

Enraged by the knowledge the doctor had of him and feeling that he was being mocked, Lyle jumped to his feet, slamming the chair back into the wall. A sharp familiar pain flooded his head.

He fumbled in his pocket for the bottle of aspirin he had grabbed before leaving his place. His hands trembled so much as he tried to open the lid that he dropped the bottle; pills scattered everywhere. He cursed in anger.

"What's the medication about?" Puccini frowned watching Lyle on his hands and knees trying to capture the pills.

"Headache," he muttered in response.

"How long have you been having these headaches?"

"A while. I don't sleep much."

"Why not?"

"Because," Lyle stopped what he doing and glared at the doctor, "when I sleep I have a nasty habit of dreaming."

Puccini was extremely intrigued by this statement. "Wait," he said as Lyle stood back up. "I have something better."

Lyle watched the old man pull a bottle of vodka and two glasses out of a cabinet. Lyle eyed the glass he was offered. They raised the glasses to one another and Puccini downed his drink. Lyle, however, sat his glass down without touching it.

"Tell about these dreams of yours," the doctor said casually.

But Lyle had not come for dream analysis. "Why don't I ask the questions?"

Puccini shrugged. "If you wish."

Lyle moved around the desk in order to stand face to face with the other man. "You were my counselor when I was a child, weren't you?"

He was surprised that Lyle remembered this- he wasn't supposed to- but he did not express this astonishment. Instead, he replied evenly, "That's right."

Without warning, Lyle pounced. He viciously grabbed Puccini's faded tie at the knot and pulled the material taut. He slammed the doctor against the wall, leaving the man gasping for air.

"You know something about me," he snarled sinisterly, shaking Puccini. "Stop playing stupid games with me! Something is going on… I want to know what you know!"

He could hide his fear no longer. "Please," he choked out, terrified. "Please, Robert! I'm here to help you."

With a homicidal gleam in his eye, Lyle slammed him into the wall again, this time shaking loose a mirror mounted near Puccini's head. The mirror shattered at their feet.

"Bobby!" The sudden cry had a profound effect on Lyle. The murderous look evaporated and his grip on Puccini loosened slightly.

Small fingers wrapped around his upper arm, gently tugging at him. He released the doctor and backed away to calm himself down.

Puccini, whose throat remained constricted by fear, slid a finger into the knot of the tie and loosened it. Ultimately, he decided to remove it completely. The doctor turned to thank his rescuer but the words of gratitude froze on his tongue. His jaw unhinged a bit when he saw Mia standing next to Lyle.

"This is unbelievable," he breathed as he stared at them. "Incredible."

"Now what are you gibbering about?" Lyle snapped sharply, still incredibly volatile.

Puccini excitedly pressed his spectacles back up on the bridge of his nose, muttering nonsensically to himself as though he was witnessing some once-in-a-lifetime event. "How did… do you… I can't believe you're together!"

Lyle looked like he was ready to haul off and hit the doctor, so Mia laid her hand over his. He stayed put.

"What do you know about each other?" Puccini asked in an awestruck tone. His hands trembled as he stepped towards the pair.

"Shut up, old man!" Lyle began to pull away from Mia.

"Are you aware of your connection to each other?"

"If," Lyle spat derisively, "you're asking if we know that we were both used in your twisted little experiment, then yes."

"Fascinating… we always wondered what would happen if two functioning Members became aware of each other."

"What are you talking about?" Lyle was uneasy with the implication of the statement. "Are you telling me that this whole thing," he said in reference to his being assigned to the Seventh Member Retrieval, "is another experiment?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Puccini admitted distractedly. "What are your feelings towards each other?"

"**Shut up!**"

Mia jumped slightly when Lyle smashed a glass of clear liquid into the floor. Puccini wrung his hands in nervousness. Regardless of which name he went by, Lyle was a very dangerous man. Puccini appealed to Mia with his eyes; he knew that he had just exhausted the last of Lyle's patience.

"I. Want. To. Know. Everything. You. Know."

Puccini swallowed. "Yes. Yes, of course," he said in quiet resignation. "Please," he motioned them to follow him. "Come."

They were led down a long dark corridor. The doctor glanced over his shoulder. Mia was directly behind him followed by Lyle.

"You are in a very frustrating situation," he said subdued. "I understand that, but you must be patient. Trust me."

Lyle began to respond in an undoubtedly nasty way, but Mia stopped him. Puccini walked slowly onward, not realizing they were no longer behind him.

"Just play along with him," she said. "Let's see what happens."

He grunted dissatisfied, but nodded. Mia hurried to catch up with Puccini.

"We do trust you, Doctor," she said demurely.

Puccini was relieved and relaxed slightly. "Good," he said, feeling in control again. "I will do all I can to help." He stopped short and turned to a door to his right.

The room he ushered them into was small and bare and looked remarkably like an operating room. The moment they set foot in the room, Lyle wanted to leave as he had the concentrated feeling that they had just walked into a trap. Puccini had disappeared from sight and Lyle didn't want to wait around to see where he had gone.

Mia looked at Lyle quizzically as he grabbed her hand and proceeded to pull her back towards the door.

"We're leaving," he said shortly.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Robert."

Before they could face him, the doctor was upon them. He struck Lyle brutally in the back of head with the butt of a gun. Mia cried out and immediately dropped to her knees next to her fallen companion.

"You're quite fond of him, aren't you?" Puccini looked at her the same way he had when asking them what they knew of each other.

Mia glared murderously at him.

"I'm sorry I had to do that, Amelia," he said sincerely. "I don't like to use force, but he gave me no choice. Now," he leveled the gun at her, "let's stand up shall we?"

She reluctantly obeyed. The doctor motioned her into another tiny room adjacent to the one they were in. Once inside, Puccini shut the door behind them.

"Sit in that chair behind you, Amelia, and bind your feet and hands."

"Excuse me?" She stared at him with stunned incredulity.

"I didn't want it be this way, Amelia. I really didn't, but time is quickly running out. Now sit."

She turned to face the chair in question. It looked like a dentist's chair, but it had straps for the wrists, ankles, waist, and head. She shivered.

"You can't just leave Bobby," she said flatly, as she complied with his disturbing order. "There's no telling what the extent of his internal injuries are. If you leave him, he could die."

"He allows you to call him Bobby?" he watched her with enthrallment. "Oh, we have so much to talk about you and I…"

"You're mad," she breathed with disgust.

He smiled in amusement as he finished tightening the restraints. "That's what all mental patients say about their doctor now isn't, Amelia?" He put the gun down in favor of a black liquid-filled hypodermic needle. There was a deranged smile on his visage. "I am going to show you things, Amelia- Things that you don't know. Look at the syringe."

She looked at him blankly. "Why?"

"Do it!"

She looked. "So?"

"Focus on the Serum inside," he instructed. An eerie glow lit his eyes as he stared at the injection. "Do you know what you're looking at?"

"No," she responded sardonically, looking away.

"Within this syringe," he went on, ignoring her attitude. "Is the capability to be anyone… to do anything…" Do you understand, Amelia?"

She remained silent, grounding her teeth together. There was something incredibly annoying in hearing her name repeated over and over.

"It's not been perfected yet," he said with a tinge of sadness in his voice. "It's far from being perfect actually. It's limited in it's capability to create alter egos, but the potential is there." He turned his hungry eyes on her. "Do you understand now?"

"No!" she exploded, unable to contain herself any longer. "No, I don't understand anything! I don't understand why everyone is so obsessed with Jarod and creating Pretenders or whatever it is you call him! I assume that what that…that…aurgh!" She shrieked in frustration as she searched for the missing word. "Tar in a jar!"

"Tar in a jar," Puccini chuckled. "Clever, Amelia, very clever. So you do understand." He raised the needle and advanced on her. "Do you remember who you are, Amelia? Do you remember your family, your friends, your life?"

Mia blinked. She had "forgotten" about the gaps in her memory. "No," she admitted sourly. "Not everything."

"I can make you remember, Amelia- so easily." He tapped the side of the syringe and squirted out the air bubbles. "You are not a killer. You are an innocent child."

She fought against her restraints; the leather was old and weak and she prayed to find the weakest spot. She looked up at him fearfully. "Do you know who they are?" she asked, hoping to stall long enough to find that weak area. "The men following me?"

Puccini's smile widened. "Ah, yes, our allies in black. That's rather complicated I'm afraid. There's been an experiment, Amelia; a very risky one. I arranged it, but things did not go as planned. As for you, you were left vacant- but I can fix that."

"What about Bobby?"

"Bobby?" he frowned. "Oh, Robert. A great many things went wrong there." He chuckled. "Don't worry about him, Amelia. I'll take care of him, too."

She didn't like the tone of his voice when he made the last comment. She struggled harder.

"It's all right, Amelia," he assured her. "Everyone gets one of these." He tilted the needle towards her.

"What do you mean everyone?"

"All of the Members, of course."

"Oh, of _course_…" She looked at him sharply. "I thought there were only two left."

"Not hardly," he said lightly. "Don't be afraid. This is a special form of the Serum. It will help you remember, Amelia." His massive hand caught the back of her head and held it firmly in place. "There might be a little pain, but it will be worth it."

"Why are you doing this!" she screamed as she gave into panic and hysteria. "Tell me why!"

"Relax, Amelia. In a few minutes, you'll understand everything."

* * *

Parker and Jarod, exhausted and still being pursued, had reached a dead end. Too fatigued to argue or even voice their frustrations, they simply looked at each other in helplessness. Jarod was still optimistic that they would find a way out- he just needed a chance to catch his breathe. Parker, on the other hand, was not so hopeful. As far as she could see, they were trapped.

A strange sound echoed in the corridor. It was coming towards them. Jarod peered into the darkness but saw nothing.

"Keep watch," he told Parker who just looked at him charily.

He began to feel along the wall and low ceiling. His hands happened across a grate above their heads and it was not a moment too soon. Mr. White was moving at deliberate pace in their direction.

"Hurry," Parker hissed when she saw the figure.

Jarod wrenched the grill off and climbed up, pulling Parker after him. They crawled frantically through the ductwork. Jarod saw a light ahead of them that was streaming in from an exit. He kicked the new grate off.

They found themselves in complete darkness standing on a narrow ledge outside of the building. Somewhere below them water roared. There was nowhere to go but down.

"I'm going to look for a way out," Jarod told her, but Parker wasn't listening. Mr. White was still after them, crawling through the duct with a knife clenched between his teeth.

After Jarod had disappeared, Parker caught sight of a narrow pipe running vertically up the side of the opening they had exited from. To test her theory that the pipe could be their salvation, Parker grabbed hold of the metal tubing and pushed herself up. Unfortunately, the pipe was slick from grease and her grip did not hold. Her feet did not halt her fall and she dangled precariously off the edge of the ledge. She did catch hold of the duct opening and managed to prevent herself from falling further. Perspiration droplets formed on her temples as she struggled to hold on- she couldn't even spare the energy to call out to Jarod.

A light snickering drew her attention upward. Mr. White was perched on the edge of the duct above her with a condescending smile on his pale lips. He took the knife from his teeth and positioned it above the fingers that held onto the opening. Her eyes widened in horror as he brought the blade down.

The blade sliced into her flesh and sent blood running down her arm as her face curled in agony and shock. Mr. White lifted the blade and watched curiously as she struggled to hold on. Then he raised his hand and wiggled his fingers at her in a mocking good-bye gesture.

Parker lost her grip completely and plummeted into the depths below.

* * *

A great many things had troubled Mario since Detective Wayne and Gordon had visited him. He wasn't the dumb jock he was often pegged to be and he knew something strange was going on with his sister. As he drove through the streets of Manhattan in the sleek sports car he had worked so hard for, he mulled over the disturbing findings he had recently uncovered.

He had checked with every precinct in Manhattan and the Boroughs only to find that, while there were several Gordon's and Wayne's on the force, there was no Jarod Wayne or Parker Gordon. In fact, of all the strange characters to have paid them a visit in the recent weeks, he could only confirm the identity of Viktor Puccini. The nagging suspicion he had of his brother-in-law had spurred him check City Hall for a marriage license. It hardly surprised him that there was none for Robert Bowman and Amelia Micelli. Of course, he knew there was a possibility they had not been married in the City, but he had not the time or the means to check the Vegas records.

He sighed in frustration and gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was worried about his baby sister- very worried. There was no telling what kind of mess Mia had gotten herself into this time. Her problems, his problems, Maria's problems had all begun after their father's conviction. With Salvatore Micelli serving three consecutive life terms and Kathleen Micelli voluntarily commitment, there had been no one to raise them. Their oldest sister, Maria, battled drug and alcohol abuse before finally ending her life. Mia was the one who found Maria dead in the bathroom the girls shared lying in a pool of her own blood- she had slit her wrists. Mario had dealt with his own anger and bitterness by withdrawing from everyone and immersing himself in work and school. And that meant the Mia fell into the cracks, often living on the street and running with the wrong crowd.

Guilt weighted him down and he blamed himself for what she had to live through, but he was determined to make it up to her, starting by getting her out of whatever it was she had gotten involved in.

Mario had to walk a short distance to Puccini's office building after he had parked his car. He figured that since Puccini was legit and Mia's doctor, he might be able to help him. However, Mario wondered how accurate this assumption was once he entered the doctor's office.

It was obvious that something had happened in the office. Shattered glass lay all over the floor and an overturned vodka bottle lay on the desk soaking the paper contents that lay across the top. His attention was caught by an open door to his right. He entered the dark hall and followed it to another lighted room.

The first thing Mario saw in the room sent his stomach to his feet. Robert lay face down on the floor moaning weakly.

"Yo," Mario crouched down next to his brother-in-law. "Yo, Rob, you okay? What happened man?""

"Mia," Lyle managed, not sure who he was talking to. "Get Mia."

Mario's heart skipped a beat. "Yeah? Where is she?"

Lyle raised his head. "Get me up and I'll show you."

Mia found one of the wrist restraints was poorly fastened and she managed to wrenched free of it. She lashed out at Puccini, scratching the doctor in the face. His glasses went flying and he fell to the ground, blinded and scrambling for his spectacles.

Mia finished freeing herself just as Puccini place his glasses back on his face. Quick on his feet for an old man, the doctor dove at Mia trying to stab her with the syringe. They struggled, each trying to force the needle onto the other. Puccini shoved Mia onto an examining table, sending a tray of surgical instruments crashing to the floor. The syringe was inches from her neck when the door slammed open.

Puccini, firmly pinning Mia down, looked up irritably to see the silhouette of a furious young man holding the gun he had disposed of earlier. Mario stared at the man that was practically on top of his sister. They stared at each other- no one seemed to know what to do.

"Get off of her," Mario hissed.

Puccini quickly backed off of Mia who stared at her brother as though he was a ghost. Mario did not notice the doctor edging towards the fallen medical instruments- his focus was on his sister who had run into Lyle's arms.

"She is much more disturbed than I thought, Mr. Micelli," Puccini explained nervously, picking something up off the floor. "I never thought she would attack me like that. I- I don't want to involve the police naturally."

Mario glared at him sharply, now more suspicious of Puccini than anyone else. Without warning, Puccini lunged at him, slicing the air inches from his face with a scalpel. Mario was so stunned that he stumbled backwards into Lyle and Mia, dropping the gun. Lyle, none too steady on his feet to begin with, fell to his knees. Mia, naturally, went with him. In the brief time it took for the trio to recover, Puccini had fled, the door swinging in his wake.

Mario ran to the door, but there was no sign of the doctor.

* * *

Parker's head disappeared under the water she had fallen into. A strong current forced her along to who knew where. Enormously disoriented, she struggled as much to discern where she was as she did to keep her head above the water. Finally, a broken metal beam was within her reach and she managed to grab a hold of it. Hanging unsteadily onto it, she twisted to see where she had fallen. She saw the duct opening and the pipe high above her. She also saw two figures wrestling with each other on the ledge.

_Jarod!_

She watched as he fought with White, trying to dodge the sinister blade while keeping his footing on the impossibly slick surface of the ledge. White, who had no difficulty maintaining his traction, lunged and, as Jarod leaned back to avoid the knife, the Pretender's right foot slipped out from under him and he fell hard on his backside. As he fell, his head hit squarely on the lower edge of the duct opening.

Parker's eyes briefly closed and her brow furrowed in disbelief of what was happening. This was impossible! When she opened them again, she saw White standing over Jarod's prone form, studying him intensely while caressing the knife's blade. A cold, compact weight settled in her stomach as White stood and gave Jarod a swift, brutal kick in the side which sent the Pretender over the ledge. A splash was heard and once satisfied that his job was done, White disappeared.

Her mind shut out the horror she had just witnessed and her training kicked in. Edging as far the beam as she could, Parker scanned the quick-moving current for any sign of him. Her hope was that the cold water had awakened him, but that hope seemed to be in vain. Her arm ached, numbed by the icy water, and she felt her fingers weakening. Then she saw a black form break the surface and her strength came back. Reaching out a hand, she managed to catch hold of his shirt.

"Come on, Jarod, help me out here!" She tried retained her usual sarcasm, but her comment came out as a desperate plea. She struggled to keep both his and her head above the water. Her hand began to cramp. Parker frantically searched for something- _anything_- that could possibly be used to get them out of the water and Jarod's weight pulling her down was only making things worse. The stark realization that she was going to have to choose between keeping her grip on the beam or her grip on Jarod hit her with heavy despair.

With reluctance, she released the metal beam and left the subterranean river carry them where it would.


	23. Here There Be Dragons

**Chapter 22: Here There Be Dragons**

_"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss. the abyss gazes also into you" -_Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)

**_

* * *

_**Blindfolded, Puccini was marched to an unknown location by two Black Coats. A million thoughts and fears sped through his mind at lightening speed. He was beyond terrified; desperately fearful of what lied in store for him. He regretted now that he had not let Lyle exact his revenge for whatever torture his former patient might have devised would infinitely more merciful than what they would do to him. His trek came to an abrupt halt as the blindfold was ripped from his eyes. Blindfolded, Puccini was marched to an unknown location by two Black Coats. A million thoughts and fears sped through his mind at lightening speed. He was beyond terrified; desperately fearful of what lied in store for him. He regretted now that he had not let Lyle exact his revenge for whatever torture his former patient might have devised would infinitely more merciful than what would do to him. His trek came to an abrupt halt as the blindfold was ripped from his eyes. 

He stood at the head of an impossibly long table that intersected with another table, a horizontal one. His surroundings were austere and gray; few dim lights lit the room. Puccini felt ill and he fought the overwhelming urge to retch.

It was not the Triumvirate who entered the room, as he feared, but someone almost as daunting. A horde of Black Coats in a crisp methodical single-file line strode and on their heels was the imposing Mr. Cox.

Cox seated himself near the center of the horizontal table and folded his hands neatly before him.

"Gentlemen," he acknowledged the Black Coats assembled. His piercing gaze slid over to Puccini; he leaned forward slightly. "Doctor."

Puccini fidgeted nervously with the collar of his shirt under the secretive smile the other man regarded him with.

"Is it clear to you, Doctor, why we are unhappy with you?" The smile vanished, replaced by an unaffected expression.

"N-n-no," Puccini stammered. "I-I…"

Cox waved his hand for silence. "We are in a rather fascinating situation. Our _friends_ are making quite a nuisance of themselves. They know things," he looked at the doctor sharply. "Things they are _not_ suppose to know. Why is that?"

Puccini was rapidly loosing color. "I'm not sure what you're getting at."

Mr. White stepped out of the shadows and tossed a broken glass syringe onto the table. The hypodermic rolled down the length of the table stopping inches away from Puccini.

"We found this in a hotel room Amelia stayed in," White informed him callously. "Someone activated the Sub-personality and issued an unauthorized hit on one of the original Project constituents." He gave Puccini a significant look. "One of _your_ former colleagues."

He gaped at them aghast. His squinty eyes darted frenetically between the two men. Realizing that his life was jeopardy, he scrambled to compose himself and downplay his horror.

"So?" he responded with a mechanical shrug in a transparent attempt to play it cool.

"So," Cox's voice dropped an octave and resonated within the room, "you have one chance to explain yourself, Doctor." He gave Puccini a withering look. "And don't blame Mr. Lyle time. We know that he was not with the girl at the time nor did he know what the Serum was for- we know he is not responsible. So the truth, if you'd be so kind."

"I-I," his mind went blank and he could think of no excuse to offer to Cox. "I thought you had gotten to her."

"No," Cox drawled, growing weary of the doctor's lies. "Someone did, but it was _not_ us."

"Impossible."

"It is the _only _possibility.

Puccini knew he was in serious trouble, as they were not buying anything he said. Cornered and distraught, he threw his hands onto the table's end and leaned forward, sweat beads dripping down his face. "Are you accusing _me _of this?" he shouted defensively. "You've trusted me for so long! How can you possibly think I would betray you now? I think your men," he pointed an accusatory finger in the direction of the Black Coats, "are inventing tales to hide _their_ failures! I'll prove to you that I am loyal."

Mr. Cox glanced at Mr. White and the two exchanged secretive smiles.

"You certainly will, Doctor," Cox told him confidently. "Beginning now."

After the Black Coats had taken Puccini away, a grim-faced Cox turned to Mr. White.

"Follow him," he said shortly. He folded his arms over his stomach and stared a spot over White's shoulder with a brooding expression. "I don't want any more screw-ups."

White gave Cox a disgruntled glare. "I see I'm doing all the footwork," he remarked sullenly.

"And you have a problem with that?" Cox caught the other man's gaze and held it with a hard look. White felt as though Cox's eyes were boring a hole through his skull but he held his ground. Cox's mouth twisted into a severe line. "Mr. Lyle is still under the impression that _I _work for _him_. It is imperative that he retains that belief. And to do that I _must_ remain out of sight which leaves _you _to do the 'footwork'."

White was not one bit reassured and shot a nasty look at Cox's retreating figure.

**_

* * *

Mario, when he could, was speeding through traffic like he was in the Daytona 500. He glared at the road ahead of him with a deadly look. Mia sat next to him, staring absently out of the window. She sighed now and again, mostly from exhaustion. Lyle, who was not happy about being relegated to the backseat, was in a petulant mood. _**

"So." Mario finally broke the stifling silence. "What's the story, Sis?"

"Huh?" Mia sounded startled. She looked her brother in puzzlement. "What story?"

Mario practically growled. "Why didn't you tell anyone you got married? Nonna's been bawlin' her eyes out ever since she found."

"Married? What are you talkin' about?"

Realizing that his initial belief that the marriage was a hoax, he glared into the rearview mirror. 'Maybe you oughta ask _him_," he spat angrily.

Unconsciously, Lyle hunkered down into his seat as though trying to disappear. It never once entered his mind that she might find out about that little deception. So, he hadn't been honest about _everything._ His cheek burned with an unfamiliar sensation- he was blushing from embarrassment.

Mia was sure there was a reasonable explanation for her brother's odd accusation and twisted around in her seat in order to see Lyle. She watched him thoughtfully before speaking.

"How do you know Mario?"

Lyle refused to meet her gaze or answer her question. Mia turned to Mario.

"He came to the house looking for you," Mario told her. His voice was hard and unforgiving. "Said you were newlyweds. He even had a ring."

Mia's nose wrinkled as she paused to mull something over. She did not seem overly concerned that Lyle had lied to her family about their relationship, only curious as to when he could have met them without her knowing it. "Must have been when we were separated," she murmured to herself.

Mario heard and frowned. "So you _are _married then?" He was disappointed and it was evident in his voice; he did not want his sister to be tied down to this man.

"Wha… No, no," she replied distractedly. She looked back at Lyle with an indignant expression. "You've got some nerve getting mad at me for not telling you I had met Jarod when you didn't bother mention that you'd seen my family!"

Lyle mumbled something incomprehensible.

The two went back and forth bickering about trivial nonsense- who hadn't told whom about meeting whom. Neither made any headway with the other; the only thing they accomplished was to infuriate Mario whose dislike and distrust of Lyle was growing by the second.

"**That's it**!" Mario, sick of the lies and unanswered questions, slammed on the brakes pitching them all brutally forward. The tires squeal crossly as they tried to prevent the vehicle from careening into the car in front of it. He pulled over to the side of street and shifted the car into park. Glaring darkly at his sister, he turned to confront Lyle. "This car doesn't move again until someone tells me what's going on. I don't care who it is; but someone better start talkin'!"

Mia caught Lyle's discontented gaze. He shook his slightly at her inquiring look. She looked away from him and began to chew on her bottom lip until it bled. He let out a large breath.

It took nearly an hour, but Mario was told as much as he needed to know to understand the severity of their situation. Mario turned in his seat and stared at the road before him. From his vantage point in the backseat, Lyle watched Mia petitioned her brother to believe them. His mind blocked out the sound of their voices, as he was aware of nothing but the way Mia sought Mario's trust and approval; the same way she had often beseeched him. A new darkness-a new hate- bubbled within him. He no longer viewed Mario as a potential ally- he only saw him as an enemy.

* * *

"Are you sure this is right, Syd?" Broots glanced uneasily at their surroundings. The beam of his flashlight seemed to be absorbed by the darkness. 

"Yes," Sydney confirmed. He was just a few steps ahead of Broots- feeling his way through the sublevel. "Angelo was absolutely certain they were down here."

"But _why_ were they down here? I mean, I didn't even know this area of the Centre even existed! What could have possibly brought Jarod and Miss Parker down here?" Broots' hand brushed against something feathery. He jumped back and into a wall, his heart practically leaping out of his chest.

"Lyle perhaps?" the doctor suggested noncommittally. "Whatever the reason they obviously ran into serious trouble."

"I'll say." Broots fell silent, worrying over the fate of his friends.

Angelo had been very concerned over their fates as well for he had been in frenzy when he came to Sydney's office. Angelo had apparently followed Miss Parker when she went to get Jarod. Temporarily, distracted by another matter, he found them gone when he returned to the sublevel. Then he found Miss Parker's gun and knew something very bad had happened. His directions to Parker and Jarod had led the doctor and the technician to the God-forsaken realm they were now in.

A dampened roar thundered from somewhere ahead of them. Broots' nerves frayed more and his stomach churned violently.

"This way," Sydney motioned to him.

Reluctantly, Broots followed positive that he was not going to like whatever it was causing the rumbling noise. A rusted door led them to an open expanse divided by a boisterous river.

"What is this?" Broots found he had to shout in order to be heard over the water's tirade. "Why is there a river underneath the Centre?"

"Hydro-electric power," Sydney called back. "During the 60s and 70s water powered provided electricity to this section of the Centre."

"What was this area used for?"

"It was the original psychological research wing, or at least part of it was. It was rumored to have been shut down decades ago."

"Guess the rumor wasn't true," Broots murmured to himself as he scanned the environment.

"There," Sydney directed his flashlight to an area to their left. "That's the dock Angelo spoke of."

Broots was surprised how wet everything was. The river spit out water over its manmade banks as though furious to be intruded upon. He struggled to keep his footing.

The long, low mass of something that had washed up on the banking came into their view. Broots edged a bit ahead of Sydney and flickered his light over it. He was paranoid about what might be buried in the river and as a result almost missed what it was that had washed up. For a long while Broots had been plagued with a reoccurring nightmare in which, while hunting for Jarod, he found himself trapped alone in the sublevels where inanimate objects in the Centre's abandoned regions came alive. Now Broots pinched himself and prayed he was dreaming. He wasn't and his nightmare was coming true as mass on the banking moved.

"Parker?"

The sound of Sydney's voice snapped Broots out of his frozen trance. He quickly caught up with the doctor who was crouched next to the mass, which wasn't a mass at all, but Miss Parker with Jarod laying at her feet. She moaned lightly.

"Broots," Sydney glanced at the other man. "Check on Jarod."

Broots nodded and scrambled down the banking to the Pretender, almost slipping pass him. Jarod was extremely cold to the touch and did not respond to Broots' calls. "Come one, Jarod," he mumbled. He sat up a little straighter. "He's unconscious, Syd," Broots reported. "What do we do?"

In the darkness, he couldn't see the tremendous apprehension on Sydney's face as he carefully cradled Parker in his arms. "We get them out of here, Mr. Broots," he replied quietly.

* * *

Puccini was not a difficult man to find- he had left a paper trail in office that was a mile long. The trio of Lyle, Mia, and a reluctant Mario tracked the doctor to a basement beneath the Chinese restaurant Mia had been in many days before. 

The basement was one large open room that was strangely lit up by small round lights in rows all along the floor rather than in the ceiling. Eerie shadows dance all along the walls. Lyle entered first with Puccini's gun cocked and ready. Mario felt oddly cold even though the room was quite warm.

Puccini stood against the far wall and did not attempt to hide from them. In fact, he appeared to be expecting them.

"Gentlemen," he greeted them quietly. "Amelia."

Lyle was not in a sociable mood and therefore did not bother with pleasantries. He simply eyed the doctor darkly as he advanced.

"I know you all have many questions," Puccini said wearily. "So allow me to expedite things and try to explain…"

Mario distanced himself from his sister and Lyle, opting to hang back in the shadows and watch… and listen.

"We're waiting," Lyle told the older man impatiently.

"In the beginning," Puccini sounded as though he was narrating a horror movie. "There was a panel of fourteen scientists, doctors, and psychiatrists, myself included, working on Project Heptagon- then called Project Sentient. Initially, we believed that we were truly working on a cure of mental illness, but we soon realized that the true intent of the Project was a disturbing one." Puccini loosened his collar with a finger as the heat was beginning to get to him. "Most of my colleagues and myself were against human experimentation, particularly when research wasn't completed, but Dr. Raines persuaded us that it was essential… for the greater good of humanity. Sadly, we bought into the line and began testing an early form of the Serum on the patients selected by Dr. Raines for the Project. All of the subjects were in their early thirties, in good physical health, fit a specified psyche profile, and suffered from one mental illness or another. The latter condition proved to be false, but by the time we realized this it was too late to stop. The first five subjects tested were not Members in Project Heptagon- they were solely for testing and perfecting the Serum. Their fate was insignificant. After being injected with the Serum, each subject was reduced to a comatose state. So the Serum went to the lab for research while the subjects were confined to the Infirmary and forgotten.

While the Testing Phase was occurring, the Project Members were being selected. Dr. Raines had a very detailed inventory of what each Member was to posses as far as genetic traits and personality characteristics. The seven chosen possessed, theoretically, the capability of becoming Nobel Peace Prize winners or great humanitarians. We were not told why this was so important and we did not ask." Here Puccini sighed and wipe his brow with the back of his hand. He seemed much older now, much older than his sixty-five years. He inhaled deeply before continuing.

"When Project Heptagon commenced, we found that the Serum was still not flawless. The first and oldest Member suffered the same fate as the initial test subjects. With each subsequent Member, the result was the same but slightly less severe. The fifth Member retained the ability to walk and so simple tasks _only_ if it was instructed to do so. Without direct command, however, it was as useless as the others. The only explanation we could find was that age somehow was a factor in the Member's response to the Serum. The fifth Member was twenty- fifteen years younger than the first Member was at the time of injection. So the sixth Member was brought to us at age fifteen."

"Me," Lyle said flatly. His face was expressionless, but his eyes hard.

"Yes, Robert," Puccini could not bring himself to look into the younger man's eyes. "Yes, I was the counselor you visited you and I was the one who began you on the Serum."

"Why me?"

Puccini shrugged wearily. "It was chance really- the luck of the draw. While Mrs. Parker was pregnant, Raines somehow discovered that both children she carried possessed the genetic qualities he wanted the Members to have. He wanted both you and your sister, but Mr. Parker refused. It was a brief, but intense battle between the two of them. The Triumvirate intervened and settled the matter once and for all- Mr. Parker kept the firstborn while Dr. Raines got the second one. So you see, Robert, your role and Miss Parker's could have easily been switched."

Lyle seemed unaffected by this revelation and motioned for the doctor to continue.

_Luck of the draw, indeed…_

"You were the first Member to respond successfully to Injection," Puccini said after a moment's pause. "At least until the Simulations began. We miscalculated many things with you, Robert. We never guessed that your primary personality would be so strong or fight for dominance. We had no way to control this so Raines decided to increase the dosage of the Serum. Unfortunately, the results were catastrophic, as you know since you read the file. Another regrettable side effect was dreaming."

Lyle stepped towards Puccini obviously irritated. The doctor held his hands up as though to hold off an onslaught. "Please," he entreated, "let me continue. I will explain everything."

After a moment of tension, Puccini felt it safe to go on. "The seventh Member was brought in much sooner than scheduled because Raines wanted to test the Serum on a prepubescent subject. We finally achieved the desired result in Amelia. But we could not stop the dreaming.

To insure that the Primary Personalities retained no memory of what occurred while the Sub-Personality was activated a memory deletion process was developed. In clinical trials, the Deletion Procedure was effective, harmless, and permanent. No form of therapy or dreaming could recover the memories. Except for the two of you," Puccini motioned to Lyle and Mia in a sweeping gesture. "You both seem to be the exception to every rule."

"How enlightening," Lyle said dispassionately. "So the other five Members are they dead or alive?"

"Oh, they are very much alive which brings me to our friends in black. Something very strange happened when the Fifth Member was activated. As I said before, the Fifth could move with direct commands. Somehow, the Serum created a collective consciousness among the defunct subjects and Members. With the Fifth, we could control the other nine."

"So the Centre created an entire army of zombies," Lyle said dourly.

"Yes," Puccini confirmed. "Shortly after this discovery, the Project was shut down, the Psychiatric Wing sealed off, and all of us who were worked on the Project was dismissed. However, we made one last find. We discovered what possibly made you and Amelia different than the others- why you were more successful, why you dreamed. You both carry a special, random gene. We only got as far in research as determining that it was probable that this gene was a carrier for the sub-personality. It was postulated that the offspring of carrier parents would possess the sub-personality with no need for the Serum. It's a pity that this theory was never tested."

"Truly tragic," Lyle muttered disparagingly. "So how did you worm your way back into the Centre?"

"We were left in peace for over a decade. The Centre left us totally alone and we should have been suspicious about that. Nine weeks ago the murders began. At first, I thought nothing of the headlines; murder was common in the City. Then I began to notice the pictures of the victims… every one of them was a former colleague on Project Heptagon. You can understand how afraid I was…."

"Yes," Lyle sneered. "Afraid enough to cut a deal with Raines I would assume."

"I did what I had to do to survive. You of all people should understand that, Robert." Puccini could feel the heat of Lyle's loathing of him. He shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, I 'cut a deal', though that deal does not necessarily ensure my life after this is all over."

"Right you are, Doctor," An evil smile would have been effective, but Lyle could not manage even that. He advanced further on Puccini. "You made a deal with the wrong person… you should have come to me."

Puccini glanced nervously at the gun in Lyle's hand. "Don't you want to know about Dominatus?"

"I was getting to that. But since you brought it up…" Lyle waved the gun careless in the doctor's direction increasing Puccini's nervous state.

"I really don't know that much about Dominatus. I only know that the Director was the one who commissioned the formation of the Black Coat army. For what? I don't know. But the Director isn't as powerful as you might think. She wants what everyone in the Centre hierarchy wants- absolute power. She wants the Tower out of order, just as Raines wants Mr. Parker out of the way. This was their Project for, well the name says it all- domination."

"You know," Lyle jeered, "it's really great of you to tell us this." He gave Puccini a wan smile and a dry laugh. "And confession is good for the soul so I've heard…" his smile flattened into growl instantly and he raised the gun. "Too bad I'm not a priest."

The dappled lightening illuminated Puccini's face from below, making him look quite demonic. "A priest wouldn't be of much use to me now. You see, I made a deal with the devil and I must carry out my end."

He was about to question the meaning of Puccini's statement when he became aware of a movement in the shadows. Lyle glanced around and saw Mario to his left and Mia on his right, standing close by as usual.

"I know you won't believe this," Puccini said remorsefully, appealing to Mario and Mia, "but I truly am sorry. I suggest you cooperate with them. It is the only way."

Lyle turned on Puccini with a wicked glare and aimed the gun at his head. Mario looked to Mia, expecting her to call Lyle off, but she simply stared at the doctor with a look nearly as frigid as Lyle's.

Three deafening booms filled the basement and Puccini fell to the floor. Stunned, Mario turned to Lyle and Mia. He felt as though he was trapped in a nightmare- everything was so surreal. Adding to his already blurred reality, the fallen Puccini put a trembling hand over his heart. Without warning, a Black Coat tumbled from the darkness behind the doctor, bleeding profusely from the bullet holes in his chest.

The smoke cleared, revealing the imposing figure of Mr. White. Lyle's brow furrowed in confusion; he didn't understand what his former employee was doing there. Then it began clear- White, like much of Centre staff, was a double agent. White said nothing; he merely regarded Lyle with a curious half-smile as though amused by a private joke. His slimy gaze slithered over to Mia. Instinctively, Lyle pushed her behind him as though that might somehow protect her. As he did, they were surrounded and trapped by a multitude of Black Coats.

Mario, helpless to do anything useful, flattened himself against the wall, praying to remain unseen. He watched in despairing confusion as the men took Lyle and Mia away. Cautiously, he inched towards an exit. Just as he reached the door, one of the Black Coats saw him. Fortunately, he saw much faster than his lumbering pursuers to catch. Once he was a safe distance from the building and could no longer see any of the men, Mario pulled a small bent business card from his jeans pocket. On the back of the card was a scrawled a phone number. He stared blindly at the number. Just before they confronted Puccini, Lyle had given him the card along with instructions on what to do in the event they were captured.

The air was crisp and chilling. Mario wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the cold. Clutching the card tightly, he glanced left and right before scurrying across the busy intersection in search of a phone.

* * *

Broots was busy trying to explain as concisely as possible he escapade to find Lyle's file to an alert but fatigued Miss Parker After finding them, Sydney thought it best to get them, especially Jarod, away from the Centre. She was lying on the couch in Sydney's living room, watching Broots through half-closed eyes. A coffee table separated her from the recliner Broots was sitting in. Upstairs Sydney tended to Jarod. 

"Whoever retrieved those files," Broots was saying, "made a real mess of things. I guess they were in a hurry because they took the documents from Lyle's file and left the folder, but they grabbed the folder from Mia's file and left the documents." He nodded to the stack of papers on the coffee table. "Everything Lyle told you about Amelia is in those papers."

Parker grunted her understanding. "So we still don't have anything on Lyle. Perfect."

"Well," Broots sounded hesitant, "there was one thing in Lyle's folder."

Parker opened one eye completely. "What?"

"A number was embedded in the back cover of the folder. I think it's a sequencing code… or something."

"Or something? You don't know what it is yet?"

"Well… no," Broots frowned. "I, uh, sort of got sidetracked with…." His voice trailed off. He going to say that he got sidetracked rescuing her and Jarod, but thought better of it. "But…"

Parker lifted and finger and pointed at him. "You're working on it?"

"Yes, of course."

She nodded and closed her eyes. "Thank you, Broots."

Three hours later, Broots, still sitting in the recliner, worked furiously on his laptop to decode the number from Lyle's file. Parker had fallen into a restless slumber that was full of dreaming. She murmured incomplete thoughts about Lyle and her mother. She awoke suddenly asking for Sydney who just coming down the stairs. Parker seemed disoriented and worried.

Broots missed their conversation as his eyes were glued to the computer screen He yelped in disbelief. "I've got it!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "The code unlocked Lyle's Project file!" He sounded enormously pleased with himself.

Parker was instantly beside him, peering over his shoulder at the screen. "Broots, you're a genius," she breathed. Her eyes scanned the electronic document, catching on phrases like "Robert Bowman", "Sixth Member", "essentially a failure". The words suddenly blurred and she blinked. Her hand covered her eyes as she tried to refocus. She head Broots jiggling the keys in a panic.

"No, no, no," he whispered frantically. "This can't be happening!"

"What?" Sydney asked from behind them. He too was trying to trying to absorb as much of the file's contents as possible.

"Someone's erasing the file!"

Parker gripped him by the scuff of his neck. "Stop them," she hissed.

"I can't!" he cried helplessly, typing as fast as he could. His efforts were in vain and the only thing they could do was watch as the information disappeared before their eyes.

Parker swore viciously and stood up too quickly. She teetered unsteadily before collapsing on the couch, grumbling a blue streak.

Sydney was about to say something, but was cut off by his ringing cell phone.

"This is Sydney." A deep frown creased his features. "Yes, yes… who is this?"

Parker sat up grimacing against a nasty headache. She exchanged questioning looks with Broots.

"Yes. Yes, I understand." Sydney's end of the conversation couldn't have been more cryptic. "All right. Just stay put. Is there a number where I can reach you?" The doctor reached for a pad of paper and scribbled something down. "Yes, I've got."

After terminating the call, Sydney faced the other two with a grim expression. Parker looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

"That was Mario Micelli," he informed them.

Parker looked surprised. "How'd he get your number?"

"Apparently Lyle gave it to him." He seemed distant, mulling something over. "Mario says that Lyle and Mia were taken by a group of men dressed in black."

"Taken where?" Broots asked.

"Back to the Centre," Parker said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yes," Sydney said dismally.

Broots glanced back and forth between them and gulped. "Now what?"

Parker covered her face with both hands. When she looked back up, she voiced what they were all thinking.

"We go back to the Centre."


	24. Soldiers of Fear

**Chapter 23: Soldiers of Fear**

He sat alone in a dim corner of _Nonna's Kitchen_. The little Italian Ristorante bustled with activity as its dinnertime patrons filled the tables. The aromatic scents wafted through the air from the kitchen filling the business with Sicilian nostalgia. He was, however, unaffected by the jovial atmosphere which was evident in the way he stared at each customer who walked through the door. His hands trembled as he lifted a streaming cup of espresso and his peculiar eyes remain glued to the entrance even when the scalding liquid burned him as it passed between his pale lips.

"Yo! Mar-ee-yo!"

The boisterous voice of jolly Tito finally broke through his trance. He looked around for his friend. A large young Mexican man grinned at Mario and gave him a playful wink. Tito was always in up-beat, optimistic mood and quick with a contagious laugh and infectious smile; it was both his defense mechanism and his greatest strength. Mario was grateful his friend was working the evening shift.

Tito wove his through the crowd and plopped himself down in the booth across from Mario.

"Where's Nonna Gianina tonight? He asked, his black eyes twinkling.

"Ah," Mario sat his cup back on the counter, suddenly aware of his stinging lips, "She's at home supposedly restin', but you know Nonna…"

Tito nodded, his grin stretching even wider over his attractive face. "Si, si. Can't never not do somethin'. Yeah, I know." A mischievous gleam came into his eyes. "Which is more than I can say about her slothful grandson. I didn't know Area Supervisor was an acronym for lazy bum."

Mario smile was wan. "You don't even know what an acronym is," he replied, attempting to return the humor, but there was little amusement in his voice.

Tito didn't miss the lack of enthusiasm. "Yo, what's eatin' ya, Mario?" he said seriously. "You still worried 'bout Mia? She'll turn up- she always does."

"I know where Mia is, man," he said quietly.

"Yeah?" Tito's eyebrows rose slightly. "Then how come you look like someone just died?"

The statement struck him as ironic as the vision of the dead Black Coat tumbling from the shadows flashed before him. "She's in a real mess, Tito. Got mixed up with a real whacked out crowd."

"Aw, she's a good kid," Tito tried to downplay the situation, but it did not mask his concern. "It can't be that bad. What are they into? Petty theft, drinking, graffiti?"

"Nah, man. This is big time stuff."

"Fo real?" Tito seemed stunned. "She into drugs?"

Mario sighed and watched the people entering the diner over his friends shoulder. "Nah. Bigger than that."

"She involved with a guy?"

Mario nodded. "Dude who's missin' a thumb."

Tito swore and leaned back against the seat. "How?"

"Yakuza… Japanese mafia or somethin' messed up like that."

Tito swore again.

"Yeah, it is, man," Mario said in response to the cursing.

"So whaddya gonna do?"

Mario's gaze shifted onto Tito's worry-stressed face. "I'm waitin' on a guy who can help."

"A cop, then?"

"Nah, a shrink."

"A shrink?" Tito let out a low whistle. "Now that _is_ messed up!"

A shadow fell over the table the young men sat at. Mario looked up and into the eyes of a gray-hair gentleman who was studying him intently. He jumped out of his seat quickly, looking somewhat rattled.

"Doctor," he paused as though uncertain how to address the man before him. "Sydney?"

The man inclined his head slightly and gave the youth a thin smile. "Mario, I presume."

"Yes, sir."

Tito took this exchange to be his exit cue. "Yo, man," he caught Mario's arm as he passed by. "You need anythin'…"

Mario nodded appreciatively before returning his attention to the doctor. After a moment of awkwardness, Mario let his hands fall to his sides. "I ain't got no idea what to do, sir," he admitted sheepishly as his speech lapsed back into the bad grammar he used in casual conversation.

Sydney smiled as reassuringly as he could. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Mario," he said more confidently than he felt. "Have you heard anything more from either of them?"

The young man's head shook despairingly. "No, sir. I don't know if this is good or bad, but I also haven't seen any of those weird guys either."

"Let's take that as a good sign," Sydney said, motioning for Mario to follow him. "Time is against us, I'm afraid. We must move quickly."

"Of course," Mario trailed close behind the doctor as they exited the restaurant. "May I ask where we're going?"

"There's a couple of people I want you to meet," Sydney told him, turning the collar of his coat up to ward off the biting air. "They'll help us find Amelia."

After a moment's pause, Sydney glanced at the young man next to him. "Mario."

"Yes, sir?"

"Did Mr. Lyle happen to tell you why you should call me?"

"No," Mario shrugged thoughtfully. "He just said you'd be the most likely to help him. Why?"

"Just curious," Sydney murmured, still unsettled about the matter. There was nothing in the past that he could recall that indicated Lyle ever trusted him.

"Are these people you want me to meet close by?"

Sydney arched an eyebrow at him. "Not exactly. They're in Delaware."

Mario didn't conceal his surprise. "Oh."

"That's why I couldn't get here any sooner."

"That explains that." Mysteries, Mario decided, were only fun when they didn't physically involve him. He began to wonder if this nightmare would ever end.

Mario was seated at the kitchen table in Sydney's house. His mind had already gone numb and his body was beginning to follow suit. Over the course of the past two hours, a less than friendly Miss Parker had grilled him on his connection to Lyle, the Centre, Mia, and Project Heptagon. His only recourse was to repeat what he had witnessed and been told by his sister and Lyle. It did not seem to satisfy Miss Parker in the least. Jarod had been more kind to him, though Mario was not sure if that was sincere or if was a result of a recently incurred concussion.

In order to prevent total mental shutdown, Mario learned that it was best not to ask questions. He knew Miss Parker was Lyle's twin sister, but he did not ask if she was involved in the same things her brother was. He knew Jarod was a Pretender, but he did not ask why he was so important to the Centre. Nor did ask what the Centre was nor any other millions of questions that floated through his head. If he just focused on his sister he felt he might have a chance to retain some of his sanity.

He was left sitting at the kitchen table while a row ensued between Parker and Jarod. Mario closed his eyes against the rush of voices, trying sort out his thoughts, but it was a futile effort. Parker's forceful voice overtook Jarod's and Mario couldn't help but listen. She apparently didn't want Jarod going "back" with her- wherever back was- and Jarod was rather insistent that he was going back whether she liked it or not.

"Hey, kid."

Mario reopened his eyes to find Parker standing over him. Judging by the disgruntled expression on her face, he guessed she had lost the argument with Jarod.

"We're going to get your sister now. You stay with Syd," she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the doctor.

Mario reflexively took inventory to make sure she had a thumb on each hand. Her words registered with him and he stood up abruptly.

"I'm going with you."

Unconsciously, he had taken hold of her upper arm and was now being subjected to that infamous, artic glare. He let go quickly, but did not back down.

"No, you're not," she snapped with finality.

"She's _my_ sister."

"Parker," Jarod stepped in between them and gave her a firm look. "He has a right to go."

Parker's mouth twisted into a scowl. Finally, she sighed, looking very tired. "Jarod, no. The fewer people I have to keep track of the better."

A deep grimace marred the Pretender's features. "Would you stop trying to do everything alone?" he spoke in a tone meant for her ears only. "You've got me to shoulder some of this and we may very well need Mario's help."

She looked away, staring at something he could not see, and did not answer.

"Besides, it _is_ his sister down there."

"Fine," she barked grudgingly, pulling back from him. "But I am not rescuing you again."

Jarod smiled morosely and turned to Mario. "Ready?"

Mario, grim-faced and sullen, nodded shortly.

After finalizing plans with Sydney and Broots, the three prepared for their trip back to the Centre. Parker paused in the doorway of the house, staring blankly ahead.

_She is his sister, _she reflected. _And he is my brother._

_

* * *

It was like some demonic carnival run by Black Coats. Lyle and Mia, dressed in identical black jumpsuits, were marched down a long steel corridor to a raised platform. Surrounding the platform were a multitude of arches leading to nameless horrors._

The Black Coats escorting them suddenly stopped and lifted them onto the dais. From this elevated position, the duo could see the snaking track that twisted in and out of the archways. On the tracks rolled by odd coffin-shaped containers filled with water. Lyle stared in horrified wonder at the macabre world they were in. He knew a little about a great many things that went on in the Centre but this…? Somehow _Dominatus_ had been assembled under his nose without him even suspecting anything.

His attention turned to Mia who was standing next to him struggling to keep her eyes open as she surveyed their surrounding with vague awareness. He tried to grab hold of her, but found that his hands were cuffed behind his back in heavy manacles.

Once the liquid-filled coffins had trundled by their Black Coats guards gripped them firmly by the shoulders and marched them in the direction the coffins had disappeared.

Lyle was becoming restless and perhaps even a mite scared as they were forced down a dark tunnel.

"Where are you taking us?" he demanded, asserting as much authority in his voice as he could. He was incredibly indignant- how dare they treat the Under-Director of the Centre like this! A singular thought struck him at that moment as he realized with chilling clarity that _they_ were not independent of the Centre- _they_ were part of the Centre. He was on the receiving end of an elaborate setup and he had been for… years, probably. Something wasn't computing correctly and Lyle shook his head as though trying to rid himself of extraneous information. Mr. Parker was the one who had assigned him to the Seventh Member Retrieval. So it was his father who had set him up! He should have figured that… but then that still wasn't quite right. He had received a communiqué from Mr. Parker after the Retrieval was well-under way with instructions regarding how the Centre was to be run during his absence along with the warning to trust no one. Now Lyle wished he'd paid a bit more attention to the warning.

Lyle's head began to spin as he continued trying to sort out the truth. Since then he'd had random contact with Mr. Parker who seemed most concerned about Brigitte and the baby. It was unlikely that his father was behind it as Mr. Parker had about as large a target on him as Lyle did. But if it wasn't his father… then who? He knew Mr. Parker had received his orders from the Triumvirate. However, assuming Puccini was telling the truth, the Director was at the helm of this little endeavor and she was not apart of the Triumvirate. The hand on his shoulder forcing him to turn disrupted his thoughts.

They were now standing in a small area that resembled a factory floor. A cold hand gripped Lyle's face and forced him to look to the left. A long white finger pointed to a door at the end of yet another long corridor.

"You _must_ go in there."

The Black Coats forcefully shoved them towards the door. Mia, who seemed to be under the influence of a tranquilizer, stumbled, awkwardly trying to keep herself on her feet. Lyle managed to shoulder under her and hold her up until she regained her balance. Once they were on the other side, the doors automatically hissed shut behind them, leaving them alone in the darkness.

Inside the new chamber, they were bombarded by a hideous blast of electrical feedback from speakers that were mounted high on the wall. Suddenly, several rapid flashes of intense light flooded the room, all but blinding them.

"Move forward," a tinny voice commanded through the speakers. A buzzer sounded and a red light flashed above the door across the area. There was nothing they could do but comply.

Lyle squeezed his eyes tightly shut trying to eliminate the light-induced blindness. When his vision cleared, he saw that he and Mia were at the end of a line of people all dressed as they were. A nauseous feeling settled in his stomach as he counted the others. He and Mia rounded out the total to seven… Seven Members.

"Move forward."

The queue trudged onward. Lyle twisted and strained to see the faces of the other Members, but the Black Coats did not allow him to get far enough out of line to get a clear view of their features. What he did see was that they all seemed to be drugged. Mia was almost completely alert now and her eyes darted frantically around trying to make sense of what they were seeing. Lyle leaned close to her to tell her that the other must be the other Members of Heptagon, but before he could say anything he felt suddenly strange as all the hair on the back of his hands and neck stood on end. The air encompassing him quivered as though charged. A loud zap stung his ears and his right side felt like it was on fire. Gasping for air, Lyle glanced to the side and saw a Black Coat staring blankly at him. In the man's hand was an electrical cattle prod. Lyle glared at him spitefully and spat out a mouthful of bile that had crept into his mouth.

"Move forward."

They entered another hall- this one lined with Black Coats- and appeared to be heading into yet another room. Mia looked back over her shoulder at Lyle with a frightened looked. He tried to give her a reassuring smile but it came out as a grimace. Mia returned her gaze to what lie before them.

Just before Mia stepped through the door on the heels of the other Members, a figure stepped into the doorway blocking her passage. She gasped in surprise and checked up. Lyle walked into the back of her and curious, he peered over her shoulder. Out of the darkness a hand shot out and grabbed Mia's arm, holding it tightly in a bloody grip.

Her jaw dropped in a silent scream as she tried to pull away from what held her. She twisted around and buried her face in Lyle's chest to stifle her tears and gripped his shirt with her free hand. Powerless to do anything with his hands shackled, Lyle could only stand there glaring into the darkness from whence the hand came.

An inhuman moan radiated from the shadows and the hand's grip tightened. Lyle certainly was no stranger to gore, but this thing that latched onto Mia repulsed even he. The hand was red, raw, and skeletal in appearance. It was morbid fascination that held his attention to that hand. Then a sudden wave of nausea crashed over him, as he understood that that hand had been skinned. A violent shudder racked his body.

"What _is_ it?" Mia voice was barely more than a plaintive mew. She turned her head to the side and stared down at the hand.

"Don't look," Lyle whispered, still unable to tear his own gaze from the sight.

Something in his tone made her rebury her face against him. Another inhuman groan was uttered from the monster that owned the hand and it began to pull Mia towards it.

"No!" Lyle looked around at the silent Black Coats and silently cursed them for not intervening this time. The black eyes stared unseeingly as though nothing abnormal was occurring.

Mia let out a strangled cry. Lyle attempted to put himself in between Mia and whatever it was in the shadows.

"Amelia…" the raspy call froze them both. "Robert…"

Whatever horror was lurking in the darkness knew them.

In times of imminent danger and death, the mind oft wonders down strange paths completely disassociated from what is actually occurring. For Lyle, the image of his sister flashed into his mind and his heart sank. All his memories of her sped as if each moment had been threaded on a movie reel and was now being played for him. He was reminded of all the reasons why she should not help him. Mario should have contacted Sydney long ago and Parker should know of their situation by now, but Lyle did not hold out much hope that she would come nor grieve any over his demise.

"Come to me…Amelia…Robert… Come… You can still stop them…"

* * *

It never ceased to amaze Parker how poorly the Centre guarded Projects that were so important. After the first few Projects walked off, one would assume it reasonable to beef up security. However, this overlooked detail worked to her advantage and she decided not to file a complaint this time.

They stood on the brink of the underworld, not far from where she and Jarod had originally watched White's lecture to the congregation of Black Coats. A few of the strange men scurried through the auditorium move various pieces of furniture around the area. They appeared to be preparing the room for a ceremony or something similar.

Jarod glanced at his watch. There was less than an hour before the scheduled initiation of Dominatus. Though he had never discussed the very real danger they were placing themselves in with Parker, he knew they could very well die here. Usually able to find some sliver of hope in every situation, Jarod could not pull his thoughts from the mire of melancholy. Part of this despondency sprang from the fact that they knew very little about what they were walking into. Jarod didn't like to go into any circumstances without first having thoroughly studied the situation from every possible angle.

He was acutely aware of Parker's presence next to him and his skin tingled excruciatingly with worry. Mario stood on the other side of Parker taking in the circus below him; Jarod chose that moment to pull her to the side.

Teetering on the verge of possible death left him feeling that it was necessary to get certain things off his chest before it was too. He looked at her intensely, somehow unaware that he was staring at her. In his mind, he saw her as a young girl and the memories of her from their youth began to play. The reel paused on the moment when she bestowed upon him his first kiss.

"Hello? Jarod? Anybody home?"

Instantly, he became aware that she was speaking to him and his cheeks flooded crimson, though mercifully the dark kept this hidden from her.

"Uh, yeah…" his voice trailed off as he felt his courage leaving him.

"Well, look," she said, picking up the uncomfortable slack in the conversation. Even in the dimness of their surrounding she could feel his concentrated gaze boring into her. "We need to find Lyle and Mia and get them out of here, drawing as little attention to ourselves as possible." It was an unnecessary remark and she felt ridiculous for making it.

"Do you remember… do you remember when we were young…"

Parker tipped her head to the side and regarded him curiously as he faltered in his speech in a un-Jarod like manner. "And?" she prodded. They did not have the luxury of wiling away time with idle reminiscences.

"And you kissed me?"

Parker's eyebrow spiked in surprise. She backed away from him, uncomfortable with where his statement might be headed.

"Why are you bringing this up now?" she said callously. "We don't have time for this nonsense." Even in the dark she could see the sting of rejection on his features. Though it was necessary to reinforce the boundaries that were established between them, she did not do so without a pang of regret.

His chin dropped to his chest and his shoulder rose sharply as he inhaled. "I don't know what I was thinking," he said so quietly she had to strain to hear him. "We need to find Mia and Lyle."

"Yo, Jarod," Mario waved them both over. "Somethin's happenin' down there."

As Jarod somberly passed by her as he crossed over to where Mario stood, he felt a hand catch his. He turned to Parker inquisitively, but she was not looking at him. Instead, her gaze was locked on the scene below them. Hope all but died as he squeezed her hand lightly and she returned the gesture.

"Look at that." Mario was pointing to the stage area. Seven iron seats resembling electric chairs were set up on the platform.

"Seven chairs…" Jarod mumbled aloud, his attention now riveted to view that was being assembled.

"Seven Members…" Parker finished his thought.

"I see an area behind the stage," Jarod directed her sight to the area he was studying. "My guess is that the seven Members are somewhere back there."

The trio exchanged glances and with grave resignation began to formulate their plan of attack.

_**

* * *

Mia was sobbing unaccountably. She was on the edge of a breakdown and there wasn't anything she could do to reign in her emotions. The hand that still clutched her now had a face to go with it…sort of. The face was in a worse state than the hand. The flesh was shredded and mangled, exposing muscle and tendon.**_

"Listen to me," the bloody thing said, extremely aware of what a wretched sight it was. "You must listen closely to me. You have but one chance to stop Dominatus from commencing!"

The more it talked the more Mia cried and the more Lyle felt he was going to break out of his shackles or wrench his shoulders out of socket trying. He was standing with his left to the thing to provide at least some protection to Mia.

"Who are you?" Lyle spat vehemently. "Why should we listen to you?"

The creature uttered an agony-laden gasp of a laugh. "You should listen to me because I know how to stop them. I am…" his tone was incongruous, " I was Viktor Puccini."

Mia turned her head and wailed into Lyle's chest. Lyle sighed despondently. Even if by some miracle they survived this, he feared that Mia would never recover from the trauma.

Lyle swore under breath. "Fine," he said. "How do we stop this?"

"Scatter the Members."

"That's it?" He didn't sound overly impressed.

"Trust me, Robert. I have no reason to lie to you. I don't have time to go into the details. Separate the Members, it will throw the collective consciousness into confusion and they will destroy themselves. Without them, Dominatus is powerless."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Lyle eyed him warily.

"There's one more thing, Robert," the was intense urgency in the man's voice and Lyle found himself leaning forward to catch his words. "Mia has the capability to summon up the skills of her sub-personality without the sub-personality being activated. She simply must…"

Puccini shrieked suddenly. The next moment, two of the Black Coats reanimated and snatched Puccini away from the Lyle and Mia. As the doctor was taken from their sight they were subjected to his blood-curdling screams of suffering and torture. In his place, appeared a sneering Mr. White.

"Don't mind him," White said smoothly, locking gazes with an astonished Lyle. "He's just being taught a lesson."

Jarod discovered that the catwalk they were on encircled the entire perimeter of the auditorium. The trio followed it to the side of the stage and discovered a series of ceiling-less rooms behind it. Mario immediately zeroed in on his sister.

"There!" he exclaimed in a hushed cry. "There she is!"

Though they could not hear the conversation occurring, they did witness the horrific sight of Puccini's gory form.

"!" breathed Mario. He choked back the urge to wretch.

While Mario and Parker looked on in horror, Jarod's heart was inevitably touched by Mia's sobs as he saw how frightened she was. He continued to watch even after the living corpse was carted off. Lyle was speaking to someone and, judging from the look on his face and his body language, he was greatly disturbed and irate. His curiosity was held by Mia who, while still weeping, had her arms wrapped around Lyle's waist and was fidgeting with the cuffs that bound his wrists. It wasn't just nervous fidgeting, either, Jarod observed- she was trying to unlock them.

"Jarod," Parker hissed in his ear. "We have to get down there now. There doesn't seem to be many of those drones down there."

Jarod nodded. Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away from Mia. Silently, he prayed she would succeed in her mission.

_**

* * *

Lyle was rendered speechless by the sudden appearance of Mr. White. Of all the people he suspected might be involved in this conspiracy, White never came to his mind.**_

_Stupid, _he cursed himself. _How could I have overlooked that!_

Of course, the last person one would expect is the first one to be involved.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Lyle," White bared his teeth in a sinister grin. "How goes things at the Centre?"

Lyle opened his mouth but nothing came.

"You don't look so well," he continued on, obviously relishing the moment. "Rough night?"

"So this is you're doing?" Lyle snapped, finally regaining his ability to speak.

"Oh, well," White jeered. "I really can't take the credit for," he waved his hand in a sweeping gesture, "all this. Unfortunately. I just work here."

"I'm sure," Lyle muttered.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lyle." White tossed his hands in the air before clasping them behind his back. "I don't be mean to be disrespectful, but I just can't help feeling such immense satisfaction over your ,ah, demotion, let's call it."

Lyle's throat burned with hatred so intense he would have killed White had he been free. White knew this and goaded him over his impotence. Then the verbal sparring stopped when White's attention to Mia.

Lyle's brow furrowed at the way White was looking Mia over.

"She's a pretty little thing, isn't she," White smirked at Lyle as he stepped closer to the girl. "Looks like you've taken a liking to her. Humph. So have I."

Mia froze briefly, and peeked at White. The obscene leer the older man regarded her with sped her efforts to undo Lyle's bonds.

White grabbed Mia with a slimy hand with the intent to pull her to him. Lyle's reaction was instinctual. He lunged forward and gnashed his teeth at White, nearly catching the other man's nose. White released Mia and stumbled back, glaring hatefully at Lyle.

"You're going to regret that Mr. Lyle," he hissed as he skulked back into the shadows.

Mia was a bit rattled by the incident. Lyle's saddened movement had been just enough to help her irreparably break the lock on the fetters. Discreetly, she tested them to make sure they were open… and they were.

Black Coats surrounded them. A metallic voice crackled over the speakers.

"Move forward."


	25. End Game Pars I

**Chapter 24: End Game- Pars I: We Can Be Heroes**

Mr. White had never liked Mr. Lyle, but it was a fact he had kept to himself while employed by the Under-Director and, consequently, the Centre. But now, now that he was in charge and Mr. Lyle was nothing, it was no longer necessary to mask his contempt of the man. White watched with delight as his ex-boss was half-dragged, half-pushed by a giant in black down the corridor to the room in which White awaited him and his cohort.

White took this opportunity to better study the elusive Seventh Member without concern that his nose

could be snapped off. It was odd, he concluded after extensively looking the redhead over, that Mr. Lyle should care anything at all for this one- she was hardly his type. Though, if truth be told, he had never seen Mr. Lyle treat his Asian girls with anything that could be labeled as care.

Now at his feet, he regarded his quarry with silent superiority. Lyle was like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth and full of frenzied violence. Mia, in contrast, was strangely subdued with no discernable emotion expressed on her fair features. Her eyes were just as blank.

_Less to contended with, _he thought with a shrug.

With ceremonious deliberation, White finally addressed his captives. "Mr. Lyle, Miss Amelia, welcome… to your new home."

Lye tilted his head to the side and rolled a crazed glazed glare over White. "And where, pray tell, is home exactly."

White was unspeakably riled by the younger man's ingratiating tone. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself up to his full, intimidating height.

"Think of it as a control room," he hissed through clenched teeth. He stared Lyle down. When he spoke again, White's tone was dark and steely. "You've both have caused us a lot of trouble. You, especially, Mr. Lyle- you've always been a thorn in the Centre's side. However," he smiled a delightfully malevolent grin, "this time you'll pruned. We'll make sure you never pose such problems again."

White's voice had become an annoying buzz in Lyle's ear as a bizarre spectacle occurring over the man's shoulder held his attention. A young man in his teens was being strapped down to an operating table. Obviously drugged, the boy's head lolled to the side as his subjugators busied themselves with some sort of preparation. Dark blonde bangs were plastered to his fair forehead as sweat poured down his face. His blue eyes stared unseeing into Lyle's.

White stepped to the side to allow Lyle full view of the scene. He watched Lyle watch the boy with vague amusement.

One the Black Coats held up a hypodermic needle to the light and tapped its side to expelled the air bubbles. The syringe was filled with an inky black liquid. The other Black Coat held the boy's head so that the back of his neck was exposed. The Black Coat with the hypodermic held the needle to the base of the boy's skull briefly before suddenly and ruthlessly plunging it in.

Lyle unconsciously held his breath in. In the moments that followed, all was still. Lyle exhaled and the boy began to convulse. So violent was the shaking that the boy was nearly thrown out of his bonds. When he began to throw up, the Black Coats released him from the straps so that he would not choke on his vomit. Another injection of the Serum halted the tremors. The boy's skin was as pale as milk and his fingertips were tinged with blue. He wasn't breathing…

The two Black Coats, unperturbed the lifelessness of the child, blocked Lyle's view for several moments. When they moved again, the boy was breathing shallowly and staring once more at Lyle, only this time his gaze was a black abyss.

Lyle shuddered and glanced away. When he looked back White was in his face.

_**

* * *

Jarod crouched low to the metal grating that was the floor of the catwalk they were on. Below them, White spoke to Lyle, but they could not make out what he was saying.**_

He sighed as he studied the predicament from every conceivable angle- they needed to get to where Lyle and Mia were without being detected but that was a feat that seemed more and more impossible. The weary Pretender sighed again and his shoulder sagged as though weighed down under a heavy burden. He had thought escaping from the Centre was his ticket to freedom, but he was losing faith quickly in that theory. He wondered what he had really gained in fleeing; he never had a moment of peace and he was still tormented by his past. The only benefit to the outside world seemed to be that he at least had the opportunity to thwart the Centre and the chance to atone for the damage his projects had done. He sighed again.

"Is there something wrong or are you just leaking air?"

Jarod started slightly and glance at Parker. He could not read her expression because he refused to look into her eyes. "Just thinking," he muttered, pulling away from her. He stood and stretched his crumpled frame as he began analyzing the schematics of the underworld he had compiled in his head.

Parker frowned and hesitated, wondering what had offended him this time. When she stood, Mario met her, his gray eyes clouded with agony.

"This is hopeless," he stated in defeat. "It is, isn't it? Even if we could get down there, we're completely outnumbered. We don't have a chance- my sister doesn't have a chance."

Parker wished she had not given into Jarod's insistence to the let the boy come. Whether Mario had a right to be there or not, the last thing she needed to deal with was a hysterical male- especially when she already had a brooding one on her hands. She placed a hand on Mario's shoulder. "It's not over yet," she said summoning up as much confidence as she could. Nodding to Jarod she added, "He'll figure something out."

Jarod glance at Parker, still avoiding her eyes, and then at Mario before looking away without a word. He remained silent as he did not want to give the boy false hope.

White was in a talkative mood and taking great pleasure in gloating over Lyle's situation. Not only was he dreadfully boring, Lyle found the unnecessary chatter to be immensely annoying- it was quite possibly the worst form of torture ever devised.

He was, however, temporarily distracted from the dreary ramblings by Mia. Her head rolled off of his shoulder and briefly jogged her awake. She looked up at him with the same bleary eyes of the boy-turned-creature then pressed her face into his chest so hard it was a wonder she didn't asphyxiate herself. Lyle looked up from her fiery hair to give White an equally scorching glare.

"Oh, come now, Mr. Lyle," White words slithered off of his tongue, "such a nasty look is really uncalled for. She's only been sedated like the others were, like you were." His lips parted in a tooth-baring grin. "Of course, we suspected that we might have a discipline issue with you and so took the necessary precautions. We didn't think it would be needed to bind Amelia- she has always been most obedient- however…" White pursed his lips in a thoughtful pose. "She's been increasingly rebellious since she met _you."_

Lyle snorted derisively. "I do what I can," he managed to spit out before a searing pain pierced his temples, forcing him to close his eyes. The gravity of his injuries was being to take its toll.

When he opened them again, White was still regarding him with that detestable grin. "Do you have any final questions, Mr. Lyle?"

"Just one," he raised his chin defiantly. "What's the point of all? Why are the Seven Members so important?"

White tossed back his head and laughed. "Congratulations, Mr. Lyle, you just defied the odds!"

Lyle stared at him as though he had sprouted another head. He fired a string of expletives at the other man.

"No one thought you'd ever figure things out this far, but they were positive you'd never get around to asking The Question." White's expression twisted into one of mock sympathy. "Oh, but I always had faith in you, Mr. Lyle."

Lyle swore under his breath that as soon as he got out of this mess, White would be his next victim. Macabre hope filled him as he thought of the most gruesome ways in which he would purge White from the world.

"Picture this if you will, Mr. Lyle," White went on, unaware that his demise was being plotted. "An army of soldiers at your command. An army without fear, morals, or remorse- no petty emotions to clouded their directions. Their loyalty is to you, the Programmer, alone. Whatever you wish is their command. Imagine the possibilities, Mr. Lyle. Imagine the power…"

Lyle imagined it and all the things he could do and he could not suppress his jealousy or his desire to be the Programmer. Then something troubling occurred to him. He thought it over and then something else came to him.

"That's all well and good," he said finally, "but that doesn't come close to answering my question."

White hissed air between his teeth. "Patience was never one of your virtues was it?" he snarled.

"I don't have many virtues," Lyle countered. "Answer my question."

"I suppose our whistle-blowing doctor Puccini informed you of the difference in the experimentation on the Members and the others and the resulting effects." White glared at him dourly. "We could control some of the others- we call them Sentients- completely or all of them partially. During further testing we found that the more Heptagon Members working together to manage the Sentients the more control we had of the collective consciousness. However, there were still unresolved issues. It appears that the Sentients are aware that there are parts of their consciousness missing and results in their stupidity. They lack the ability to continue with their mission when one of them is incapacitated or encounters a problem. So we felt that if we reunited them with their missing Members, these issues would become obsolete."

For as long as Lyle could remember, his intelligence had been underestimated and ridiculed, particularly by those in the Centre. And perhaps he wasn't as smart as he would like to think he was and perhaps he didn't understand everything involved in Project Heptagon, but he _did_ understand that _Dominatus_ was a flawed plan and he _was_ smart enough to keep this to himself.

Unbeknownst to Lyle, Parker and company were getting closer and that Jarod, with his ear against a pipe, had heard everything that White had said. For the first and probably last time, the two archrivals were thinking the same thing: _Dominatus _was structurally unsound and therein was the key to their survival.

_**

* * *

**_

White left them momentarily and returned with syringe in hand. He made a great show of preparing the hypodermic for injection into its victim. While watching the Serum drain into the glass vial with one eye, he kept the other on Lyle whose eyes were transfixed on what White half between his fingers. It had been White's intention to inject Mia first, be he changed his mind when he saw the beads of perspiration dripping down Lyle's face.

"You seem concerned, Mr. Lyle," White sneered, tapping the side of the syringe for effect. "Something troubling you?"

"W-what are you going to do with that?" the Under-director's voice broke uncharacteristically.

White arched an eyebrow. He could sense Mr. Lyle's anxiety spike. Perhaps the syringe and its contents were an effective intimidation technique for the man.

"You're reluctance to cooperate has forced us into extremes measures."

The distinct look of terror filled the younger man's eyes. "No. No, let's work something out." He tried to moisten his cracked lips but his mouth was too desiccated to do so. "I can help you," he insisted desperately. "I have connections- powerful connections- inside and outside of the Centre. And I know things about the Centre. I can help you…"

White shook his head and snickered. Mr. Lyle was falling apart in typical fashion- the instant he was threatened with physical harm he dissolved into a sniveling informant ready to do whatever it took to preserve his worthless life.

"You're connections mean nothing to us," White informed him cruelly.

Realizing that he was running dangerously short on time, Lyle went to his last resort- unabashed begging. He was down on his knees by the time White reached him.

"No, please… no." Lyle's voice was barely above a whimper.

"All right, Mr. Lyle," White knelt down to jeer into the other man's ear. "You've convinced me not to use this." He dangled the syringe between his thumb and forefinger.

Lyle's chin dropped to his chest with weary relief. White positioned the needle above the nape Lyle's neck with a victorious smirk.

"On second thought," White plunged the needle into Lyle's spine and braced himself for the scream that never came.

Lyle began to laugh. White frowned, thrown by this unanticipated reaction. Lyle lifted his head and locked gazes with White. A deranged smile danced on his lips. "You never were the sharpest tool in the shed were you," he practically threw the words at White. "You couldn't even complete a simple task like blowing up a building."

White stood abruptly, swearing as he did. "What are you babbling about?"

"Didn't you read my file?" Lyle staggered to his feet, still in excruciating pain, but he could the strength returning to his being. "Or didn't you think that was important?"

"Of course, I read the file," White fumed in confusion. "What kind of fool do you take me for?"

"A pretty big one," Lyle chuckled until he began to cough. "You should have read the fine print- those injections don't have the same effect on me as they do the others."

The costly nature of his mistake dawned on White and he backed off from Lyle. However, he knew he still the upper hand as there was one more way to make the other pliable- at least he thought there was. White spun on his heel and retreated to the far side of the room. He nodded to several Sentients standing at attention nearby. Before Lyle had the chance to process what was happening, several of the beings snatched hold of Mia and dragged her to the table White stood by.

White smiled obscenely at her as the Sentients strapped her down. From seemingly nowhere he produced another syringe. Catching her head with the palm of his large hand, White forced her head to the side and held it there.

Instinctively, Lyle lunged for White and suddenly found his hands free, which he thought was a result of his rage. He grabbed White by the throat and slammed him into a wall. The Serum had revitalized him, but his earlier injuries bound his full strength thus sparing White's life for the time being.

The Sentients were frozen by the outburst. Mia, who had been feigning her haze all along, discover that the restraint around her left wrist had not been tightened and she was able to slip out of it and undo the rest of her bonds.

Lyle was rapidly losing strength and his hold on White who was able to eek out a command to his minions. Several Sentients descended on Lyle while the others went after Mia. Like a switch had been flipped, Mia found her body responding in ways she didn't know it could. White came after her again with the syringe for a dagger. He swung at her and she kicked the hypodermic from his hand, sending it flying through the air to shatter against a wall. White glared at her murderously.

"How dare you use your tricks on me!" He rasped. He nodded sharply and seven Sentients instantly surrounded her. She was as bewildered by White's statement as she was by her sudden ability to excel in the martial arts. While fending off her attackers with relative ease, Mia attempted to figure out where these new found talents had come from.

Lyle, too tired to fight his captors, watched with equal puzzlement. As he watched he began to wonder if this was a demonstration of what Puccini had told postulated regarding Mia's ability to control her sub-personality. The pressure around his upper arms suddenly relaxed as the Sentients released him.

Every Sentient was backing away from Mia and him with identical expressions akin to fear on their faces.

Mia, still crouched in a defensive posture, blinked several times in confusion. She glanced at Lyle then at White.

"Freaks!" The word was uttered like a curse and shot at them from a Sentient in the far corner of the room.

"Evil," proclaimed another.

They continued retreating from them. Lyle joined Mia in the center of the room to watch the strange spectacle.

"Monster," they accused. "Possessed."

Lyle was not unaccustomed to such allegations; on the contrary he frequently heard such comments. He just didn't understand it coming from them.

"Enough!" cried a furious White. He dabbed at the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "This is child's play and nothing more! Now finish your mission!"

Mia edged closer to Lyle and slipped her hand in his. She had the sinking feeling that their time was up. There was a long pause in which no one moved.


	26. End Game Pars II

**End Game-Pars II: Misso Pro Defuntis**

_Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine;  
et lux perpetuam luceat eis.  
Exaudi orationem meam;  
ad te omnis caro veniet. _

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine;  
et lux perpetuam luceat eis.  
Kyrie eleison.  
Christe eleison.

_-Requiem "Misso pro Defuntis"_

_**

* * *

**_

The stage had been set and the actors, however unwilling, were cast. The only things needed to begin the elaborate play were the Producer and Director, who in this instant were Raines and Cox respectively.

Project Heptagon was secured in individual seats that looked like metallic dental chairs waiting for the Final Programming Sequence to begin. Mia, discontent with the current turn-of-events, continued to struggle against her restraints. She turned her head to look at Lyle and saw him sitting in silence- he made no effort to escape. The defeated look on his face destroyed the optimism Mia had that somehow, someway they would emerge from this victorious. She grew very still and stared at Lyle, desperately wanting him to give her some sign that things would be all right. But he did not; he turned his head away from her instead.

Lyle now knew that there was no hope. All their struggle against the Powers That Be were in vain, always had been and always would be. With a sigh of resignation, he stared blankly into the shadows that lurked off-stage.

Without warning the stage was flooded with brilliant blinding light and the screeching of electrical feedback pierced their ears. In the shadows Jarod's ears were ringing with a stinging pain. He was, as it turned out, hiding behind a speaker box.

A voice resonated out of the box still charged with the buzz of the feedback. The voice called to attention Mr. White and the assembled announcing the delay of Mr. Raines, but that initiation would commence as scheduled.

Gritting his teeth against the horrendous grating noise emanating from the speakers, Lyle heard something disturbingly familiar about the voice, but he could not pin it down. He blinked several times against the lights before going back to staring at the shadows offstage, knowing that it did not matter whose voice it was- nothing mattered anymore. Lyle shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the restraints made that impossible. Fidgeting restlessly, he continued gazing into the abyss of shadows. As he looked, the shadows began to merge together to form the crouched figure of someone as familiar as the voice.

_Jarod!_ thought Lyle dismally. He didn't see how things could possibly get any worse for him. Looking harder, Lyle saw the shadows converged together over the Pretender's shoulders this time outlining his sister's form.

Lyle suppressed a groan and closed his eyes. He assumed they were there for Mia and his suffering was just a bonus for them. Another surge of feedback jolted him half-out of his chair, causing a painful wrenching of his joints that were encapsulated in cuffs. Then for some inexplicable reason Lyle looked back to the shadows and saw Parker mouthing something to him, most of which he missed. He lifted his head and glanced around. To his left Mia was silently crying. To his right, White's back was to the Heptagon project. Lyle turned back to Parker, frowned and tried to shrug.

In typical Parker fashion, she rolled her eyes skyward with a look of annoyance and began over, slower this time. Lyle got the message: "We know about _Dominatus_- how do we stop it?"

Lyle lifted his head again as he began to answer. Hastily, he stopped. From Parker's vantage point she could not see what her brother saw and was quick to assume he was being obnoxious by withholding information. However, what Lyle saw was White turning around, preparing to inject the first Member.

As White grew closer, Lyle began to sweat and Puccini's words came back to him. If only he could communicate to Parker and Jarod how Puccini said _Dominatus_ could be stopped.

"Hey!" he barked tenaciously as an idea came to him.

White glanced up sharply. "Shut up," he snarled back.

"No!" Lyle leveled a defiant glare at him. "There's something I want to know."

"You had your chance, Mr. Lyle. The time for talk is over." White went back to what he was doing.

Lyle inhaled deeply, zeroing in on the shadows as he did so. He locked gazes with Jarod and the two men stared expectantly at each other.

"If bringing all of the Members together will give you total control what happens if none of the Members are together?"

In the shadows, Parker impatience grew. _This is a fine time for Lyle's other personalities to begin manifesting!_

"I'm warning you, Mr. Lyle…" White bent down and reached for something out of Lyle's line of vision.

"Separating the Members would make you loose all control, wouldn't it?" Lyle projected his voice as much as he could. "The others would turn on each other, wouldn't they?"

"I said **shut up**!" Without warning, White slammed a metal rod down onto Lyle's stomach so hard it made Parker and Jarod cringe. Once satisfied that Lyle would say no more, White returned to preparing the Members for Initiation.

Parker knelt next Jarod. Mario followed her lead, oddly still and calm.

"Now what?" she asked with the faintest bit of anxiety tainting her words.

"We figure out how to do what Lyle said to do," he replied absently, his mind already fast at work.

Parker looked at her brother, who was reeling in agony. She then realized that he hadn't been spewing inanities but rather was responding to her query in such a way that it did not give away them away.

Jarod was alone, edging his way as quietly as possible along a narrow catwalk high above the ground. All was still and empty; the legions of Sentients were congregated around Project Heptagon. He glanced down and saw Mario crouched and waiting by a small doorway- an exit to the outside world. Parker, though he could not see her, was waiting in the wings off-stage. He did not like being separated from them without some way to communicate, but there was no to avoid it. All he could do was hope and pray they would have no need for verbal contact.

Jarod had a master plan of rescue neatly formulated and strategized in his head. Once he found the fuse box and cut the electricity, Parker would release as many Members as she could and send them to Mario. From there Mario would get the Members and himself out of the Centre and to a safe house by following explicit instructions from Jarod on where to go and what to do if he did not have all the Members after a certain amount of time. Assuming Lyle was correct about the Sentients turning on each other, they did not need to worry about the Collective and he would be free to take care of White. If successful, they would destroy Dominatus completely.

Jarod stepped up his pace, heading to the area where he deduced the power generators were most apt to be. As he passed above the ceiling-less rooms of the Underworld, the activities in one of the largest rooms made him stop. Within the room was set up a massive machine that resembled an assembly line. Upon closer inspection, Jarod saw that it was indeed an assembly line- one that manufactured new Sentients. With a shudder, the Pretender hurried on with renewed determination.

Although the generators were not quite where he thought they were, he found them quickly, loosing only minimal time.

* * *

When he thought she wasn't looking, Lyle turned his head to look at Mia. No longer crying, she was staring unblinkingly ahead into space. He could see the now dry tearstains and traced their path down her cheeks with his gaze. She was so ashen and still that he had to watch intensely to see that she was breathing. He sighed and briefly allowed himself to wonder what might have been if circumstances had been different, if he had been different. But what was done was done and there was no changing the past or their circumstances. Besides she was just kid. What did she know about life and surviving? He watched her morosely, reflecting over their recent experiences and what he knew of her life. She probably knew more than he was giving her credit for. He sighed again and looked away.

White had finished injecting and programming the first four Members and was preparing the Fifth Member. Knowing his turn was next and not holding out hope that Parker and Jarod would help him, Lyle morbidly wished that that his life had ended on the docks when Parker shot him or in Dry River with Kyle. Bitterly, he cursed them for not being efficient killers. And with that last thought, he was plunged into total darkness.

White swore loudly, muttering something about shoddy electrical work and presumably left to see what could be done about it. As White's footsteps retreated, a scuffling was heard on stage followed by a terrible screeching sound like massive machinery grinding to a halt.

Minutes passed and Lyle could do nothing but sit helplessly and wait. Suddenly, his sister's voice hissed in his ear, shocking him badly and putting more stress on his already swollen joints.

"Do what I say to do and don't ask questions," Parker informed him as she unchained his shackles. She caught hold of his sleeve and began to pull him after her but he reused to budge and even pulled against her.

"What the-!" Parker whirled around, glaring at Lyle through the dark. "What are you doing?"

"Where's Mia?" he demanded. "I'm not going without her."

Parker grabbed him roughly by the wrist and turned him back to face her. "Don't be stupid, Lyle. I'm trying to save your pathetic hide. I'll come back for her."

"Is everyone out?" Jarod's breathless voice joined Parker's.

"No," she sounded enormously frustrated, "Lyle's being a moron as usual."

"Come on, Lyle," there was a bit of an edge to Jarod's tone. "I'll get Mia- you go with Parker."

"I don't think so, superboy," Lyle pulled away from both of them. He was not about to let Jarod play hero to Mia. That was _his_ role.

Leaving Parker and Jarod to wonder about how many blows to the head he'd recently received, Lyle managed to find Mia and awkwardly undo her restraints.

"What's going on?" she asked shakily.

"Don't question it, just go with it," he replied, pulling her from the chair.

They were halfway across the stage- halfway to where Parker and Jarod waited for them- when the auxiliary lights came on.

_**

* * *

Puccini's theory had been correct. The Sentients did turn on each other once the majority of the Members had been removed from the premise. Unfortunately for Lyle and Mia, they were trapped in the midst of the dueling. They couldn't move for every time they did they stepped into harm's way. But they could hardly remain in one place either, for the Sentients were full of frenzied confused terror and struck out blindly at anything in a very violent manner. Had Mia left Lyle behind, she could have managed to reach Parker and Jarod on her won. But Lyle was simply in too poor shape to manage the dexterity required to dodge to psychotic Sentients and Mia would not leave him.**_

There wasn't anything Parker or Jarod could do for them either. Attempting to intervene in anyway would only land them in the same predicament. Jarod, not one who could easily stand by and do nothing, edged to the outer perimeter of the battle looking for some way in. He caught Lyle's eye instead.

Lyle got the message Jarod was sending him loud and clear: let go of Mia.

_Not a chance,_ Lyle thought, but his resolution was shaky. He turned Mia to face him while they tried to stay out of the Sentients' way.

"You won't leave me, will you." It was a statement, not a question.

She gave him a funny look. "No."

Lyle nodded almost in resignation. He looked at Jarod disparagingly then gave Mia a forceful shove that sent her into Jarod's arms.

Mia stumbled forward and was caught by the Pretender who seemed as surprised as she was by Lyle's actions. She looked up at Jarod with imploring eyes. "Please, you have to do something."

He sighed and sent her over to Parker before turning back to the chaos before him. A line of Sentients separated the two men and Jarod had but one chance to act. He reached in a grabbed a very surprised Lyle. As he tried to pull Lyle out of the mess, the Collective swarmed them. After they moved on, Lyle and Jarod found themselves on opposite side from where they began.

The Sentients were beginning to fall quickly now and Jarod saw that he only had to avoid them until they exhausted themselves completely, then he could get out himself. He was far more capable of doing this than Lyle would have been.

"Parker!" Jarod called out to her over the grunt of fighting. "Go on ahead. I'll be right behind you!"

"Not a chance!" she shouted back. "We'll wait."

"You can't. You have to get to the other Members. Now!"

"Don't tell me what to do, Jarod!"

Her reluctance to leave him behind made him believe that buried somewhere deep within her, she did care.

"Parker, go. I'll be fine."

She opened her mouth, and then closed it without saying anything. They stared at each other for what seemed like eternity.

"Fine," she said finally sounding a bit huffy, "But if you don't make it out, I'll come after you in the afterlife."

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Jarod's mouth. "Go," he said again.

As soon as she left his sight, the world around them began to shudder angrily.

_**

* * *

**_

It was only a short amount of time later that Jarod got the chance to run for it. His escape, however, was not as simple as it should have been for the one way out was blocked.

"This has gone on much too long!" White stood facing Jarod with his fists balled and his teeth clenched. Trembling with rage, he glared at the Pretender through narrowed eyes.

The Pretender glanced over White's shoulder, hoping that Parker had listened to him for once and was on her way out. He couldn't see anyone or anything. He was alone with a deranged White.

White's grip tightened around the elaborately carved cane he held in his right hand. He stared Jarod down with an unhinged leer. Then suddenly and violently with cane raised, he charged Jarod.

The cane bore down on him with such unexpected speed that Jarod had little time to react. Just before it struck its target, White moved his thumb over one of the carvings on the handle. A blade shot out of the end of cane. Jarod narrowly missed being pinned to the wall; the blade slashed the skin of his shoulder as he dodged the cane. When he twisted to avoid the weapon, White ripped around and caught him in the back of the head with the cane's handle. The blow fell the Pretender to the floor.

Jarod, dazed but unhurt, managed to pick himself up before White could come after him again. It was not a moment too soon as the blade came whizzing by his head. Jarod could not keep evading him forever and White, seemingly running on unfettered psychotic adrenaline, was not slowing down in his attack. Just as he was about to strike again, another tremor rocked the room. Jarod struggled to hold his ground. Around the room the walls began to crack and chunks of the ceiling began to rain down upon them.

Jarod had no intention of dying in the Centre and while White struggled to stay on his feet, he made a break for the door. But somehow, White beat him to it. Jarod could have easily taken the man, but it was that cane that made him untouchable. The tremors increased in power, throwing both men off balance. A scuffle behind them momentarily distracted White; the Sentients were still fighting. Jarod being of sound mind and quicker reflexes took advantage of this. He grabbed the cane and with White struggling against him, smashed the blade into the quickly separating wall. With all the strength he had left, Jarod vehemently shoved the cane back at White. The force of the handle into his stomach was so great that it sent White tumbling backwards into the room. Jarod stayed only long enough to see a column of the stage crumble down on the prone figure of White.

Cutting power so abruptly to the large machinery Jarod had seen in one of the other rooms must have caused the earthquake. Whatever the cause, the Underworld was rapidly collapsing. He was almost to freedom when the ceiling above him caved in.

_**

* * *

**_

She waited until the very last second for Jarod; she wasn't going to leave him behind even if the dark world was coming to an end. Somewhere in the distance she could hear Lyle screaming obscenities at her in attempt to get her to move, but she ignored him still looking for some sign that Jarod was all right. A moment later, she was aware that she was moving away from the auditorium- Lyle, now silent, had decide to forcibly remove her from the area. She knew they couldn't wait for Jarod forever, but he would be all right. He had to be- they couldn't have come this far just for it to end here.

Then at some point she was separated from her brother and Mia. She called for them and retraced her steps looking for them, but it was no use. Each step forward meant one less step back; it seemed as though the moment her foot left the floor, that area dissolved into the abyss. With despair, she realized that survival meant leaving those she was with behind. All of them.

_Jarod!_ As fear propelled her onward from the hellacious nightmare behind her, an aching throb rose in her throat as her thoughts remained behind with him. She cursed herself for being so cold to him earlier, for not letting him finish what he wanted to say, for hurting him…

The ceiling moaned in distress. Overburdened with the stress of trying to remain upright against the tremors, the walls creaked in agony. With a thunderous crack, the world fell down around her.

_**

* * *

**_

There was no way he could continue on. His body screamed- or was he who screamed- begging for mercy and respite. The moment he stopped and began gulping for the air that seemed to elude him, he realized he was alone.

_Mia! _The walls shook all around and one crumbled in front of him. He was trapped and worst of all, he had no desire to even try to keep going. The compulsion to survive that had sustained him for so many years was gone. Sinking into the ever-shifting ground, Lyle closed his eyes. For the first time in a very long while, he felt like crying.

"Hello, Mr. Lyle."

Lyle froze. The voice was hard and biting- it was not Mia's or Parker's or Jarod's voice- any of the three would have been welcomed at this point. No, this was a voice of a very sick person.

He opened one eye first, then the other and blinked. White stood before him, bloodied, soiled, and very much alive. White glared at him strangely.

"You should have listened to us, Lyle," he said flatly. "You always have to do things the hard way, don't you? If you had just done your job instead playing detective, none of this would have happened."

"You're one of them, aren't you," it was evident that Lyle didn't really care. He stared at White. "You have been all along."

The muscles in White's jaw tightened visibly. "You have no idea who you're dealing with. These people don't play games! Don't you get it? This isn't over- they _will _come back and they _will _get what they want. _They_ always do." He shrugged ingratiatingly. "Maybe I am one of them, maybe not. But in a way, we all are part of them…"

White staggered forward and Lyle could see that the right side of his face was badly mangled. In his hand, White held a battered revolver he had dredged up somewhere. He raised it up and touched it gently to Lyle's temple and the younger man did not resist.

"Consider this an early retirement, Mr. Lyle," he bared his teeth in a faux smile.

Lyle inhaled a breath of dust and closed his eyes. The thundering of the rapidly declining world swallowed the echo of the gun blast.

_**

* * *

**_

He hand trembled, not from the tremors but from shock and strange interest. Her great eyes, stormy with turbulent emotion, stared at the sight before her. Though the cold metal of the pistol in her hand felt like fire in her palm, she oddly felt no remorse for taking another person's life. She almost dropped the gun, almost left it to be buried in the rubble, but she thought better of it. She would return it to Miss Parker, who would certainly want it back. She tucked it inside the vest of the black jumpsuit; careful to make sure it was secure, then stepped over White's lifeless body.

"Bobby? Bobby, are you all right?"

Lyle looked up at her in confusion, but said nothing.

"Come on, we have to go now."

He struggled to his feet and found it increasingly difficult to move. Mia held onto him tightly, both for his benefit and hers. They were so close to being out of this horror…

They had barely taken two steps forward when the underworld gave one last violent quiver before collapsing in on itself.

_Dominatus_ was over.

_**Rest eternal grant them, O Lord;  
And let light perpetual shine upon them.  
Hear my prayer,  
To Thee all flesh shall come.**_

_**Rest eternal grant them, O Lord;  
And let light perpetual shine upon them. **_

_**Lord, have mercy upon us.  
Christ, have mercy upon us.**_

_**-English translation of Requiem "Mass for the Dead"**_


	27. Window on a Fallen World

**Chapter 25: Window On A Fallen World**

The rain poured down in a torrential onslaught. Clouds converged in swirling angry masses and roared their fury in thunderous detonations of power. Lightening ripped opened the skies illuminating the ominous edifice that was the Centre. It had been storming for over a week.

Within the walls of the notorious conglomerate, business carried on at a strangely normal pace. Everything was it had been. But the world had changed.

Somewhere buried deep beneath the Corporation's foundations laid the lifeless corpse of Mr. White and with him many dark secrets of the Centre. As for the others… Mr. Cox was rumored to have been recalled to Africa, but no one had seen him since Mr. Lyle brought him on staff and his location could not be verified. The imposing figure of Mr. Raines had returned to stalk the halls after a long absence. Mr. Parker was still missing in action, as were his children. Theories and speculation as to the Parker family's whereabouts flourished while only two on the inside knew the truth.

_Dominatus est mortus_- that is Project Dominatus was dead as was its sister project, Heptagon. In the Centre, not only were they dead, they were nothing more than figments of the imagination. Nary a file or byte existed; no trace of them could be unraveled from the Centre's mainframe; not a soul, save those who witnessed the Projects, knew anything about their existence.

As for the earthquake that ultimately destroyed the Projects and shook that wing of the corporation- it never happened. No seismometer registered it, no evidence that there was a quake in Blue Cove existed. As for the sublevel itself it was on the record as having been shut down and condemned… for nearly twenty years.

_**

* * *

Two weeks later, a very nervous Mr. Broots crept into Sydney's office with tan package clutched in his white-knunckled grip.**_

"How's Miss Parker doing?" Broots stepped timidly foward as though he half-expected something to jump out of the shadows.

"She's back to her old self," Sydney replied, inclining his head slightly. "Though the more she heals, the harder it is to keep her in bed, I'm afraid. Is everything all right, Broots?"

Broots shook his head and collapsed into the nearest chair. "No, no, it's not. You'll never guess who I saw this morning."

"Who?"

The younger man leaned forward and glanced around anxiously. "Mr. Cox," his voice trembled in a nervous whisper, "He's back... from Africa. And he cornered me this morning wanting to know if I knew where Miss Parker and Mr. Lyle were!"

Sydney's eyebrows arched in alarm. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing," Broots flopped back against the chair. "I mean what could I tell him? Yeah, okay, so I do know where Miss Parker is, but I sure wasn't going to say anything. But Mr. Lyle? Why would I know where he is?" He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "Things keeper getting weirder around here, Syd. I mean, first Cox is gone, now he's back. Mr. Raines is gone, now _he's_ back. Mr. Parker is still gone. Miss Parker and Lyle aren't around and yet everyone acts like everything's fine- that's the weirdest part of all."

"Jarod called," Sydney said, abruptly changing subjects.

"Really?" Broots sat up a bit straighter. "When?"

"About an hour ago."

"How is he?"

Sydney smiled ruefully. "He sounded tired otherwise fine."

"Good, goo-oh!" Broots jumped out of his seat, almost dropping the parcel in his hands. "Speaking of Jarod- this came for you just a few minutes ago."

Sydney's smile widened a bit but it was tinged with a bit of sadness as he accepted the package from Broots. "He never fails does he?"

"No," Broots agreed. "It's nice to know some things don't change."

Inside the package was a hard silver casing that resembled a pen case, but slightly larger and deeper. Attached to the case was a note.

Sydney was relieved to see Jarod's neat penmanship on the card. "Jarod says not to open the case until he calls."

"Does it say when he'll call?"

The doctor shook his head. "No," he paused in thought, then added. "I need to stay here, Broots, but would mind checking on Miss Parker for me?"

"Sure, absolutely." Broots was happy to do anything that would take him away from the Centre.

Broots slipped into the hall unnoticed and hope to remain that way. He was almost homefree when he saw Mr. Lyle heading towards him. This wasn't the first time Broots had run into him since his return; it was actually the second time but Broots had no desire to repeat those encounters a third so he ducked out of the way.

Mr. Lyle had reappeared at the Centre almost two weeks after Mario had taken Miss Parker to Sydney's place. He was still healing from his injuries and walked with a stiff gait. When Broots first ran into him, he made the mistake of trying to speak to him, to ask him how he was feeling. Lyle passed by him with a glare blacker and more lethal than any Miss Parker had ever given him. Rumor had it that Mr. Lyle was far more volitale and malicious than ever before, as well as reclusive. Even Lucy, who had since returned from her excursion to Japan, had no idea where Mr. Lyle was, where he went, or what he did. He had little to do with her.

Now, as Broots watched, a young giggly Asian beauty in a short red dress follwed Lyle down the hall, but rather than being his usual snake-charming self, Lyle stormed ahead of her looking hacked off at the world. He disappeared into his office, slamming the door in the face of the very surprised girl.

Broots held his breath until Lyle was gone, then hurried from the building.

* * *

Sydney idly thumbed through some paperwork that had accumulated over the past few weeks. Though he was confident that Broots would take care of Miss Parker, he still would have felt better had he himself been able to tend to her. On the other hand, he was terribly anxious to hear from Jarod as he had had little contact with him since the Incident. The doctor's gaze drifted from his files to the silent black telephone. His thoughts settled on his last, somewhat troubling conversation with the Pretender.

"This is Sydney."

"_Hello, Sydney."_

"_Jarod? Jarod, is that really you?"_

"_Yes, it's really me, Sydney."_

"_Thank God, you're alive! I've been so worried. How are you feeling?"_

"_Physically, I'm healing."_

"_And otherwise?"_

"_I hear it's business as usual at the Centre."_

"_So it seems, though the Chairman's position is strangely vacant."_

"_I doubt it will stay that way for long."_

"_No, probably not. Have you had any contact with Miss Parker?"_

"_Have you heard anything from Lyle or Mia?"_

"_No... I have not seen or heard anything from either of them. Jarod, you seem distant- is everything all right?"_

"_The other Members are safe. I've managed to return them all to their families and loved ones."_

"_I wouldn't have expected anything less. Well done, Jarod."_

"_I have to go, Sydney."_

"_Wait, Jarod. You have not asked about Miss Parker. Why is that? Jarod? Jarod, are you there?"_

"_The body heals, Sydney, but the soul not so easily."_

Those last words bothered Sydney the most. While he had been relieved to know that Jarod was alive, he was concerned about the Pretender's mental state. Jarod's uncharacteristic avoidance of Miss Parker, particularly in light of recent events, led him to believe that last statement was somehow related to her. However, when he questioned Miss Parker about it shortly after the call, she claimed no knowledge of what Jarod could have meant.

* * *

Broots found himself back in the Centre much sooner than he had wanted to be. His trip to check on Miss Parker had been short-lived. He had arrived at her house only to find her ready and waiting. Somehow she had known he would be the one coming and immediately ordered him to take her to the Centre. Evidentally, Sydney had hidden her car keys so that she couldn't drive herself back any sooner. Broots was not happy with his orders; he knew Sydney would not approve of Miss Parker returning so soon. But he had no choice- no one said no to Miss Parker... ever.

He trailed behind her wringing his hands nervously as she made her way through the halls of the Centre. She headed directly to her father's office, slamming the doors behind her in such a way that there was no question as to whether or not she wanted company. Broots sighed softly and went to inform Sydney of Miss Parker's return.

Things were not the way she expected them to be. She knew her father would not be there, but she fully expected to see Lyle and his smirking visage sitting behind her father's desk. But instead the room was cold and barren. The fine layer of dust that coated everything in the office told her that her brother had not been there.

Parker's gaze slowly panned the room before coming to rest on the door. She turned on her heel and walked out.

There was a strange atmosphere in the Centre; no one so much as glanced up at her, despite her long absence. Everything was... normal and nothing that occurred within the building could be considered normal.

Parker found herself outside of her brother's office. She was almost at the door when it suddenly flew open. She nearly collided with a very distraught Lucy. Meeting Miss Parker only made the poor secretary more upset and she cowered before her.

Despite being confused by the girl's distress, Miss Parker smiled sweetly at her. "Hi, Lucy. Where's Lyle?"

Lucy nearly burst into tears, causing Parker to take a step back. "I don't know!" she cried in despair. "I tell you the truth, I don't know! People call and call for him, demand to speak to him, yell at me because I cannot make him return calls. He speaks to no one. He will not see or be seen by anyone!"

"Calm down," Parker said, regretting having bothered the girl. She placed a reassuring hand on Lucy's shoulder. "I believe you, okay?"

Lucy nodded miserably and hurried away from her. Parker stood by the door for a moment with her hands on her hips. She was beginning to wonder how or if Lyle was coping with the fallout from Dominatus. She was not any less determined to have that heart-to-heart with baby brother, she just decided to postpone it for awhile.

She stopped by her own office on her way to see Sydney. Her office, unlike her father's, was dust-free. She made a mental note to thank Broots for doing the housekeeping.

* * *

Nearly two hours later, the phone rang, disrupting Sydney's reverie. "This is Sydney."

"Did you recieve the package?"

"Yes, I did, Jarod. What it is?"

"Open it." There was a tiredness in the Pretender's voice as well as a deep saddness.

"You sound upset, Jarod- is anything wrong?" He cradled the phone between cheek and shoulder as he opened the silver casing. Inside, sandwiched in black foam was a hypodermic syringe filled with a milky fluid.

Jarod ignored the question. "It took much longer to create an antidote for the Serum than I thought it would. Otherwise I would have gotten it to you sooner. It will give Amelia a chance at a normal life."

Sydney paused, a frown creasing his brow. "I don't know where she is, Jarod."

"Lyle does."

"I'm not sure where Lyle is. He's been quite reclusive lately."

Jarod said nothing so Sydney went on, worried the Pretender might cut the connection. "There's only one syringe. What about Lyle?"

Jarod inhaled. "Angelo was able to send the medical portion of Lyle's file to me before it was permanently deleted from the Centre mainframe. I used it to create the Antidote for Amelia..." his voice trailed off in a sigh. "I tried, Sydney. I tried to create an Antidote for Lyle and the others, but it just isn't possible. The Antidote eliminates the sub-personality completely, but Lyle's psyche is too intertwined with the sub-personality; there is no way to safely seperate the two. The Antidote would kill him. But I did try."

"I know you did, Jarod. I will get this to Amelia as soon as I can. You did well. " Sydney sensed a deep-rooted depression in his prodigy and felt an overwhelming need to encourage the young man. There was a pause, then the doctor added, "I know something is troubling you, Jarod. Perhaps talking about it would make you feel better."

The Pretender's voice broke in confusion and hurt. "I want to," he said in a hushed voice. "But I can't, Sydney."

"You know you can talk to me."

"No, I can't talk to anyone about this."

The doctor repressed a sigh and steered the conversation to a possibly related topic. "You have not mentioned Miss Parker lately, Jarod. Is there a reason for that?"

Something in the silence that lingered told Sydney all he needed to know about his Pretender's current depression. "If you tell me what's going on perhaps I can help."

After a long pause, Jarod finally spoke. "The Antidote has to be administered in a certain way."

_**

* * *

After hanging up the phone, he sighed petulantly, wondering what was wrong with him- why this one little thing nagged him so.**_

He knew she was all right. He knew that Sydney had been taking care of her. He knew that she would be back at work long before she should be. He knew…

No matter how much he hurt, there was no way he could ever walk away without first finding out if she was safe. He had played dumb with Sydney, purposely not asking about her, hoping she would hear about it and think that he no longer cared. He did not care- it was the truth, he told himself. It _was_ true he did not care…

He hated it when others lied to him, so why was he lying to himself?

He knew he was being childish by seeking to balm his wounds with revenge of that nature. He also knew that such tactics would not inflict the same injury upon her as it had on him. He knew _she_ was the one who did not care. He was stupid, a fool, for hoping for she would.

He turned to the window where the sunlight was streaming in, feeling cold in its warmth.

* * *

He was in a foul mood, brooding and sullen, at odds with the worlds. To make matters, worse, he had developed a sudden and intense loathing for people and consequently for his job since it involved dealing with people. He had already thrown his secretary out of his office on several occasions and the last time he had done it while swearing to kill her if she bothered him about returning phone calls again. Hearing that Raines was back in town had done little to improve his sour attitude.

His jaw began aching again so gingerly he moved it about trying to work out the pain. Perhaps he should have seen a doctor instead of letting his injuries heal on their own. He dismissed the idea and, still holding his jaw in his good hand, stepped out of his office only to see his sister coming down the hall. Quickly, he ducked back inside, swearing under his breath, tremendously annoyed that he had to avoid people, when he felt that they should be avoiding _him._ At least Broots had gotten the memo and was careful to stay out his way.

The steady stream of foot traffic in the hall kept Lyle trapped in office for a long while. Some time later a rapping at his door disrupted his gloomy thoughts. He froze. The knock came several more times before it faded away. He slowly unclenched his fists and relaxed. The door to his office opened and Sydney stepped in, uninvited and very unwelcome.

Lyle could barely contain himself. "Get out of my office," he growled in a threatening rumble. He was standing behind his desk, leaning with his fists against the tabletop.

The doctor couldn't help but notice that the tiredness in Lyle's eyes matched the tiredness he had heard in Jarod's voice. Ignoring the younger man's demand, Sydney set the silver casing down on the desk.

Lyle gave him a blank look. "What is it?"

"It's for Amelia."

This fight instantly vanished from him and he collapsed back into his seat.

"Jarod created an Antidote for her," Sydney further explained.

A dark veil descended over the younger man's eyes. He turned his chair away from the doctor until Sydney could see only his profile in shadow.

"Why did you bring it to me?" he asked in a peculiar tone.

"You're the only one who knows where she is."

"What makes you think that?"

Sydney began to say something then stopped as he noticed a striking similarity between Lyle and Jarod. Both men were exhibiting signs of extreme depression no doubt brought on by the recent trauma they had suffered, but there to be more to it that that, he felt certain. "You seem upset, Mr. Lyle. Has something happened to Amelia?"

Lyle glared up at him. "I didn't do anything to her if that's what you're implying."

"It's not."

"But you were thinking it." Lyle paused, glancing at the case in front of him. "What's it an antidote for? She isn't sick."

"It reverses the effects of the Serum," Sydney explained. He could see a hardness settle into the other man's features.

"Serum?" he snorted and turned to face the doctor. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Lyle," Sydney's tone darkened. He was not in the mood to play games.

Lyle frowned. "How does it work?"

"It eliminates the sub-personality."

That piqued Lyle's curiosity and he opened the case. His face fell upon seeing the contents. "There's only one," he remarked flatly.

"Yes," Sydney caught the distinct disappointment in Lyle's expression. "Jarod determined that the sub-personality was too intertwined with the psyche in you and the other Members. There is no way to safely separate them- the Antidote is fatal to you. I'm sorry."

Lyle's eyes narrowed and the hardness returned to his face. "Or," he spat bitterly, "this is Jarod's way of getting back at me for Kyle's death- by condemning me to a living nightmare."

"He is not like that, Lyle," Sydney argued in Jarod's defense, knowing that the Pretender had done his best.

Lyle, however, would hear none of it. "Whatever," he retorted snappishly. "Well, next time you speak to him, thank Saint Jarod for me, but also tell him he wasted his time."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," Lyle snapped the case shut. "She doesn't need any Antidote."

"What?" Sydney stared at him incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Lyle, don't do this to her. She helped you- she saved your life. She deserves a chance at a normal life! Think of someone other than yourself for once!"

"Why should I?" Lyle's blue eyes sparked fiercely. "No, I've made my decision- I am not giving her up."

Sydney let out a harrumph of frustration, knowing that reasoning with Lyle was pointless. He reached across the desk to take the Antidote back, but Lyle slammed a black-gloved hand over the casing.

"I think I'll hang onto this, if you don't mind, Doctor," he said with mock cordiality. "I wouldn't want you to be tempted to find her and give it to her yourself."

"Fine," Sydney retreated to the door. With one hand on the doorknob, he turned back to the younger man. "Do the right thing, Lyle," he urged. "I know you're capable of it."

After the doctor was gone, Lyle stared at the sleek silver casing for a long time before finally shoving it into a remote corner of a desk drawer.

* * *

With Jarod and Parker safe, Angelo was relatively content. And being left alone by Raines and his goons added to the contentment. He had just finished arranging the thank-you boxes of Cracker Jacks- one from Jarod and one from Miss Parker- in a corner of his room when Willie and several other sweepers burst into the room. They brutally grabbed him and dragged him out.

Poor Angelo was manhandled all the way down to SL-25 and thrown into a small holding cell. Flat on his stomach, Angelo missed the chilling glare the sweepers received for unnecessary roughness.

"Get up!"

The voice that barked at him was all too familiar. Angelo scrambled to obey, confused and frightened.

"Over there!"

In an intensely lit corner of the cell, stood a cracked and deteriorating chair near a tiny table. Angelo sat tucking his feet onto the seat and hugging his knees tightly to his chest.

Across the room shrouded in shadow stood a figure glaring out of the darkness with a penetrating gaze.

Angelo's eyes darted frantically around trying to make sense of what was happening. All around him were instruments of horror that had been used to torture Jarod. Angelo shivered.

"Well, well," the voice sneered viciously. "You thought you were going to get away with it, didn't you?" The figure stepped out of the safety of the shadows.

Angelo lifted his eyes to Mr. Lyle's and regarded him with confusion. He shrugged slightly, not understanding what the man was referring to.

Lyle casually picked up a jumper cable that was still attached to a live battery. Angelo shrank against the back of the chair.

"You thought that we wouldn't find out that you were responsible for Jarod's escape." Lyle's face was dark and dangerous and his eyes were alive with fire. "You made those maps, didn't you?"

Angelo did not answer- in fact he barely heard what Lyle had said- his mind was occupied with something else. While he was talking, Lyle had brushed against Angelo as he flaunted the cable in intimidation. That brief contact gave Angelo a peculiar insight into Mr. Lyle's feelings and his fear of the man dissipated slightly. He sensed that Lyle's rage was not directed at him. He now regarded Lyle with intense inquisitiveness. However, Angelo felt it wise to give Lyle an answer. "Help Jarod," he admitted quietly.

Lyle let out a strangled chuckle. "Just as we thought. And you're also responsible for the escape of the Seventh Member, aren't you?"

Angelo looked away from Lyle's intense gaze. "Help," he began to say "help, Bobby," but he stopped and shrank further away. "Help Mia… help Mr. Lyle."

Lyle, unaffected by the sentiment, hissed at the sweepers in the room to leave. He retreated into a dark recess of the room before returning in full fury. With unmasked contempt, he regarded Angelo. Then suddenly and violently he slammed something rectangular onto the table next to Angelo. Coming within inches of the empath's face, Lyle bared his teeth in hot anger.

"Don't think for a second I'm going soft, Bonzo," he threatened. With a final murderous glare, Lyle stormed from the cell.

For a long while after the under-director's departure, Angelo stared at the open door. Finally, he turned to the table and carefully picked up the slightly warped box of Cracker Jacks. He turned back to the door with a slight, curious smile.

"Welcome… Bobby."

Angelo returned to his room without further harassment from the sweepers.


	28. My Enemy, My Ally

_AN: This chapter occurs after the main events in "Road Trip", but before Jarod says goodbye to Zoë. **Warning**- as if you didn't have enough reasons to hate Zoë, you're about to get another. Read at your own risk! ;)_

* * *

**Chapter 26: My Enemy, My Ally**

_It was impossible to breathe. The air was no longer in a gaseous state, but semi-solid- permeated with heavy particles of concrete residue. Miraculously, when the world fell down it had not crushed her, as it should have. Instead, perhaps by an angel's hand, the heavy concrete slabs that had once been a part of the walls and ceiling had formed a sort of refuge around her. With the exception of bruises and cuts, she was largely unhurt. Unhurt, but alone._

_The quake had vanished long ago, but she was so badly shaken that she could only sit her sanctuary. Unaware of how much time had passed, she finally crawled out of her shelter to see the extent of the devastation._

_The world was gone- she could not tell which way was up or whether she was standing on the floor or ceiling or wall. So thick with dust was the air around her that light was completely absorbed by it and everything was dark. And cold- so very cold. _

_She began to gasp for air- for any little bit of oxygen she could salvage from the atmosphere, but every breath caused her to choke. She raised her jacket to cover her mouth and nose to use it as filter against the dust. Relief did not come. The jacket itself was so saturated with the fine debris that it only further congested her lungs. She was beginning to suffocate. As the world around her spun out of her reach, a dark figure approached the spot where she had fallen. Masculine in form, the figure took on a demonic look as it neared. She began to cough up blood as the thing reached her. Her eyes closed in acceptance of fate._

"_Miss Parker?"_

_She lifted her head and looked up into clear gray eyes._

_

* * *

The shrill ringing of the phone startled her rudely into consciousness. A paper fluttered from her lap as she stood, landing face up on the floor. Her hand was almost on the receiver when she caught a glimpse of the note. _

It was the only hint of his existence she had since the demise of _Dominatus_. There had been no calls- at least not to her. Even on the last pursuit, he had made no effort to contact her by any means other than a long series of clues.

The phone continued to ring and she continued to stare at the note.

"_We're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz…."_

"_Ding dong, the Witch is dead. Which old witch? The wicked Witch…_

The phone was relentless.

"_There's no place like home. Everyone deserves one so why don't you leave me alone and let me find mine."_

"_Parker, Jarod called. I'm worried about him. The last thing he said was 'the body heals, but the soul not so easily. Do you have any idea what he might have meant?"_

"_No, Syd, I don't. Who knows what he ever means?"_

_Who knows? Who knows? I know…_

"…_Leave me alone and let me find mine…"_

"…_Leave me alone…"_

_Alone…_

"**What is it?" **Guilt caused her to bark into the receiver more harshly than she intended.

"I see I caught you in a good mood."

"Jarod?"

"You still remember… I'm touched." There was a hard edge to his voice that she couldn't miss.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror- she was pale and looked shaken… and extremely guilty. She frowned at her reflection annoyed- she had nothing to be guilty about.

"Of course, I remember," she replied as she fell back into the chair she had been sitting in before the call disrupted her fitful slumber. "That was quite trip you sent us on."

"Yes, well, business as usual- isn't that the Centre motto these days?"

"So it would seem."

He heard the exhaustion in her voice. He wanted to ask how she was feeling, but something held him back.

"Sydney said you made an antidote for Amelia."

"Yes, how is she doing?"

Parker shrugged to herself and picked up the paper on the floor. "Who knows? Lyle refuses to talk about her. He's been acting odd, even for Lyle. He's different somehow… I don't know what's going on with him."

Jarod was silent, lost in thought. Parker, afraid that he would hang up, rushed on. "He also refused to give her the Antidote. I'm sure you know about that though."

"No," Jarod sounded perturbed. "I didn't."

"Oh?" Parker feigned shock. "And I thought you and Sydney were so close nowadays."

Apparently his ignoring her had had an effect, but strangely he did not feel vindicated by it. In an attempt to resist the wave of emotions that threatened to drown him, he focused on her last statement.

"Why won't Lyle give her the Antidote?"

Parker drew in a deep breath. "Sydney's the only one who's spoken to him since," her voice trailed off as her thoughts drifted off-course. "The only thing he told Syd was that he wasn't going to give her up, whatever that means."

Jarod sighed heavily. Parker knew that sigh well; he was frustrated, but deep in thought- working to find a way around the problem. Finally, he spoke again. "I was afraid Lyle might resist."

Parker sat up a bit straighter. "What's wrong?"

"The more time that passes before the Antidote is administered, the more memory loss she'll suffer."

"If too much time passes?"

"The worst that will happen is that she'll have no memory of anything that's occurred in the last two months."

Parker folded Jarod's note in half. "I don't see what's so bad about that." _I wouldn't mind forgetting…_

"It could be very bad if she forgets what she knows about Lyle. Rediscovering those secrets might cause her to respond differently to him and well, I don't want to see her end up like Shei Lin."

"Neither do I. I don't know what good it'll do, but I'll try to talk to Lyle about it. There are a few things I wanted to discuss with him anyway."

Jarod's jaw tightened from… jealousy? No, but he was a bit annoyed that she was willing to clear the air with her brother, but she could hardly spare him a few seconds. "If he won't listen to reason, then I'll find her."

_Of course you will… you always do… _Parker folded the paper into quarters as an awkward silence widened the chasm between them. She asked about the fate of the other Members and she noticed that he went into a long rambling explanation that was out of character for him. As she listened to his voice, her heart rate began to quicken. She hoped that he would keep talking, but, of course, he did not.

"Parker?" there was irritation in his voice. Apparently he had asked her something that she'd miss.

"_Do you remember… do you remember when we were young…"_

"_And?" _

"_And you kissed me?"_

"_Why are you bringing this up now?" We don't have time for this nonsense." _

"_I don't know what I was thinking," _

"Look if you're not going to listen to me," he was angry and he didn't bother to hide it. "Then I'll stop wasting my time."

"Jarod," she almost wished they were face-to-face so that he could see that she wasn't being cruel… not this time. "Wait, I'm… sorry. I got distracted."

"Sorry to have bothered you."

"Jarod…" Parker inhaled deeply. "Is everything that happened with _Dominatus_ over?"

Something in her tone struck a cord with him. But he played it cautious, in case he was imagining something that wasn't there. "I believe so."

"Everything?"

"What is it?" his throat constricted on him, making it difficult to speak. "If there is something you want to ask me, just ask me." He closed his eyes, as a glimmer of hope broke through his darkened thoughts.

_Pride goeth before a fall…_ So many things are lost because of pride; Parker knew this but could not let go of hers.

"I did," she said finally. "I just want to be sure that this is all behind us- that we won't have to deal with that demented freak show again."

Jarod grunted angrily. "As far as I know it is all over with. But as we both know, few things rarely ever die at the Centre."

The sting of rejection went deep as Jarod answered her. He was embarrassed, hurt, and tired- tired of the game they always played. He was so tempted to just walk away from it all and disappear.

On her end of the line, Parker crumpled the folded note in her hand without thinking as though by clutching it, she was somehow holding onto him. It was possible that he would hang up and she would never hear from him again.

_Do you remember… do you remember when we were young? And you kissed me?"_

"What were you going to tell me… back there?"

The question came out of nowhere, surprising them both. He froze. Ever since he had escaped from the Centre, he had chosen to take the high road, to do the right thing. But now he had been handed the chance to get her back. He swallowed. Could he really be that bitter? Under normal circumstances, no. But he was only human- a very hurt human.

"It doesn't really matter does it?" he replied starkly. "After all, you chase, I run- you've made that quite clear."

The coldness in his voice stunned her, but she knew she deserved it. Jarod, however, instantly regretted speaking so harshly.

Her response so quiet that he wasn't sure he heard her correctly, "What if I was wrong?"

_I'm dreaming, _he thought, _it's the only explanation. I am dreaming. _

"Jarod? Jarod, who ya talking to?"

Parker heard the unmistakable voice of a woman over the receiver. She crumpled the note into an even more compact ball, as anger and embarrassment flooded her system. "Who's that?" she swore spitefully.

Jarod closed his eyes and his shoulder slumped in despair. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"Who is she?"

"Zoë," he answered despondently. "I met her while… while…"

"While I was running your stupid little maze," she finished snappishly. "You're unbelievable, you know that."

"Parker, I, I," he stumbled over his words; frantically trying to recapture what was lost. The damage was irreparable.

"Save it," she barked and cut the connection.

Morning found Miss Parker asleep on her couch, wrapped in one of Thomas's shirts and holding in her hands a Valentine Jarod had sent her once upon a time.

_**

* * *

**_

He had managed, with few exceptions, to avoid anyone who might want an audience with him since his return to the Centre. Perhaps, though, he had grown overly confidant in his adeptness for avoidance. As he made his way down the corridor to his office, he turned a corner and nearly walked into his sister.

"Hey there, baby brother," she flashed him a faux smile. "Long time no see."

She was the last person he wanted to have to deal with at the moment, but she wouldn't let him get away. "We need to talk."

"I don't have time for this now, Parker, okay." He rolled his eyes skyward; yet still saw the weariness in her features.

"Not okay. Make some time. Now." She took him by the arm and forced him to walk with her.

"What's with you?" he asked coarsely. "I haven't seen you look so bad since the demise of the shop teacher." He winced slightly as her nails dug into his flesh through his jacket.

"How's your friend- the redhead?"

Lyle shot Parker a side-glance, a bit surprise that she didn't make a rebuttal to his comment.

"The redhead has a name and she's fine." He pulled away from her as soon as they reached his office door. "Glad we had this chat, Sis, but I've got work to do." He tried to shut the door on her, but she pushed her way through.

"Chat's not over." She positioned herself in front of his desk with her arms folded over her waist. She watched him pace restlessly back and forth, rubbing his forehead with his good hand.

"What is it that you want, Parker?" His voice had an odd tone to it almost as though it was on the verge of cracking.

"It's about Amelia. If you haven't given her the Antidote yet, then you have to give it her now."

He turned on her, glowering. "And why is that, huh? Why is this such a big deal to everyone?"

Parker didn't answer she simply stared at him, taken slightly about by the force of emotion behind his words. "Because," she said slowly, "the longer you wait to give it to her, the more likely she is to forget everything that has happened. Everything, including you."

Time drifted into oblivion before Lyle finally lifted his eyes to meet hers. They stared at each other for several moments.

"What's wrong with you?" They asked each other simultaneously. Speaking in unison would typically be considered happenstance, except that it had never happened to them before. Lyle looked disturbed and Parker took a step back.

"I've have work to do," he said finally.

"So do I." Parker left quickly without another word.

After she was gone, Lyle pushed away thoughts about what had just occurred and tried to do some paperwork. Several wasted minutes later he shoved the files away and opened a desk drawer. He set the silver case on his desk and stared at it for a long time.

* * *

"You sure you're going to be okay alone?" Mario looked over his shoulder, obviously reluctant to leave. 

His sister's gray eyes sparkled. "I'll be fine, Mario," she smiled slightly. "Really."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he sighed a bit and opened the door a crack. "I wish you'd come back home and live, Fioretta. I don't see why you want be on your own after all," he spread his hands out and let them drop in a shrug. "All that's happened."

"It's not that I want to be on my own," Mia crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her brother's waist. "It's that I want to be here… this is his place."

Mario sighed and rested his chin on the top of her head. "I don't even know what name to call him by," he murmured absently. "Somehow, I don't quite care for Lyle."

"Me neither," she agreed. "I doubt he'd mind if you called him Robert."

"Yeah." Mario sighed again. "I should go- otherwise Nonna will start calling."

Mia released him and stepped back with a smile. "You never shoulda given her your cell number."

"Take care, Fioretta," he kissed her forehead. "I'll call you tomorrow so we can visit Maria's grave."

"Drive safe."

After closing and locking the door behind him, Mia rested her head against the door briefly before turning back to the living room.

_It was impossible to take a normal breath. The air was heavy with ash and dust. Her body cried in pain as she tried to pull herself out from under the collapsed wall that pinned her to the ground. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move. And then everything went black._

_She woke days later in a City hospital with her grandmother and brother worriedly hovering around her. Through joyous tears, her grandmother assaulted her with a barrage of Italian. Looking over Nonna's shoulder to Mario, she regarded him seriously._

_Mario bent down to kiss her. "He's okay, Fioretta," he informed her, calling her by her childhood nickname. "He brought you here."_

There was nothing that had to be done, so Mia choose to wander around her new apartment, hoping that, maybe, today would be the day he would come by. She shivered- there was a bit of a chill in the air. Rather than turning up the thermostat, she opted to instead get a man's slim-cut Armani jacket from the closet. It was comforting to wrap up in it, even though dry-cleaning had removed his scent from the material.

Time passed slowly and she tried to distract herself through television and books, but her thoughts kept drifting to him.

"_What do you mean this place is mine? Where you stay?"_

"_Me? I'm rarely ever in the City. I don't know why I've kept it this long."_

"_This is really nice of you, Bobby. I've never had a place so nice, but I'm not going to be able to afford it."_

"_Who said you're going to be paying for it?"_

The doorbell rang around four-thirty that afternoon and Mia dashed out of the bedroom to answer it. She was visibly let down to see it was a flower delivery boy.

"Hey, Miss Mia," the freckle-faced youth greeted her. "It's the fourteenth already."

"Thanks, Jordan," she smiled as she accepted the delivery.

Back inside, Mia opened the florist box to find the familiar sight of a rare orchid from Java. She smiled slightly. Ever since she had been released from the hospital, she had received these singular flowers every seven days and on every fourteenth day a sizeable deposit was made to a bank account that had been set up in her name.

She settled the orchid into a slender vase, before settling herself on the couch with a sigh. It wasn't that she wasn't grateful for all the material things he had set her up with; no one had ever lavished gifts on her before, but in all honesty, she would have preferred his presence to everything else.

Sometime after five, she fell asleep, dreaming of blue eyes.

It was almost eleven-thirty when she woke. Her head was throbbing and she frowned in the dark. With a weary sigh, she stood up shakily and tried to feel her way out of the living room.

"I thought you'd never wake up."

Mia spun around, almost tripping over the coffee table. "Bobby? Is that you?"

"Yeah, unless some other guy has a key to your place."

"Of course, no one else has a key." She finally saw him sitting in a recliner that was cattycorner to the sofa and hurried over to him. "I thought you'd never come back!"

He didn't say anything; he just tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she snuggled against him.

"Where've you been?" she asked, straightening a bit as she reached to turn on the table lamp.

"You ask too many questions," he chided carelessly, pushing her hand away from the light source. "Don't turn that on."

Silently, she leaned back and just listened to him breathing. He was too tense- something was wrong. It was then that she realized he had not come by to pay a social call.

"What is it, Bobby? What's wrong?"

He sighed peevishly. "You can't just let things be can you?"

"Not when something's wrong."

"Fine," he sounded pained. He held a case in front of her. "Jarod made an Antidote for you."

"Oh?" She was curious, but downplayed it upon sensing that this was a touchy subject for him.

"You won't have to worry about that sub-personality surfacing again."

"That's good isn't it?"

"For you."

"What about you?"

"There is no me," he said crossly, sitting up straighter and nearly dumping her out of his lap. "There is only you."

"I see," her brow furrowed. "What if I don't take it?"

"According to our Pretender, you'll lose your memory of the past few months. And you'll still have the sub-personality."

"Oh." Mia pulled a little further away to get space to think. She didn't care much for her choices. After several minutes, she leaned her back against him once more. "What do you think I should do?"

He knew what he wanted to do- he wanted to keep her the way she was- like him. He wanted her to be like him. "It's not my choice," he said sullenly.

"If it was…?"

"It's not so drop it."

"Okay, it's my choice and I choose not to take it."

"What?"

She twisted to face him. "I don't want it. Tell Jarod thanks, but I don't want it."

"Why?" He was floored by her verdict.

"Because," she bit her lip as she thought about her choice of her words. "I want to be like you."

It took him a moment to regain the ability to speak as he stared at her. "H-how could you have possibly known?"

She shrugged slightly and ran her hand through his hair.****

It was the first real kiss he had experienced in a long time, possibly his entire life. Unfortunately, that genuine gesture of affection released his conscience long enough to speak loud and clear. He allowed himself to take in enough of the moment to forever etch it his memory. Then he opened the case, which was now behind her back. He slid his left hand under hair and held it away from her neck.

He was doing this for his own benefit, he told himself as he removed the syringe from the case. He didn't want her to have the chance to grow to hate him. The needle was at the base of her skull. The sooner she was out of her life the better it was for him. He depressed the plunger releasing the Antidote into her system. He didn't want the distraction. He didn't want to weaken like his sister had when she was with Thomas.

The kiss lasts few seconds long before she slumped against him, unconscious. He held her loosely in his arms for a long while afterwards.

Above all, he did not want her to end up like Shei Lin.


	29. Epilogue: Listen to the Rain

_AN: This is the final chapter in its was originally written. Thank you to everyone who came along on this trip. Your support and reviews are priceless. I hope you'll join me for the next leg of the journey._

_This chapter occurs prior to the episode "Extreme"._

_Lyrics by Evanescence and My Chemical Romance_

"_The Spider and the Fly" by Mary Howitt._

* * *

**Epilogue: Listen To The Rain**

**_Sister, I'm not much a poet but a criminal and you never had a chance… Love it or leave it, you can't understand… A pretty face but you do so carry on… And on…_**

It was the fifth time she had called that morning; the umpteenth time that week. He reached across his desk and deleted her message without listening to it. She wanted a meeting with him- something about recent events, family, and blah, blah; he didn't know what she really wanted and he didn't really care. He simply wanted to be left alone.

It wasn't true that misery loved company for if it was then his sister would be the perfect companion, as she seemed as wretched as he. He had no solid proof or evidence as to the reason of her despondency, but he strongly felt it was connected to their ever-elusive Pretender. He had always suspected as much, that she had a personal attachment to Jarod- one that prevented her from actually delivering him to the Triumvirate.

But it didn't matter anymore. It didn't matter that he could ruin her by merely airing his suspicions to the right people in the hierarchy. Nothing mattered anymore.

He was staring blankly at the silken white Java orchid that was sitting on the corner of his desk where the photo of his most recent Asian interest used to be when the door creaked open.

"Are you ready?"

The rasping hiss of Raines' voice filled Lyle's thought with murder of the most violent kind. He slowly turned his hate-filled gaze to the man who had taken him from his mother, who had created him by way of destroying him… By the time his eyes met Raines' the hate was masked behind a thick veil of arrogance and self-importance.

"Yes. Are they?"

"Yes. Now let's go. We mustn't keep Mutumbo waiting."

Lyle rose, and with one last glance at the pristine beauty of the orchid, followed Raines out of the office.

I wouldn't front the scene if you paid me… I'm just the way that the doctor made me…

She was in foul mood; they had just returned from Canada chasing after Jarod and jumping through hoop after ridiculous hoop only to discover he was never in Canada to begin with; he had set up the entire obstacle course from a cozy spot in Florida.

Just as she was about to leave for the day, she saw Lyle enter the building with Raines. Disgust filled her; she couldn't believe he would still be sucking up to the Ghoul after discovering what Raines had done to him.

_**You'll never make me leave- I wear this on my sleeve… Give me a reason to believe … You're running after something that you'll never kill… If this is what you want then fire at will …**_

With a smile that dissolved as soon as Raines wasn't looking, Lyle left his associate with a scowl and headed to the nearest elevator. Parker decided to delay going home and went after her brother.

The door was just sliding shut when she reached the elevator he had gotten on. She caught the door with her hand it sent it back.

Lyle glared at her, but didn't say anything. Instead, he tried to shut the door on her.

"We need to talk," she said as she joined him inside. The doors finally slid shut.

"We're not going to have this conversation again, are we?"

"What?"

"What floor?" he asked flatly.

"Whatever floor you're going to," she said with a thin smile. She ignored his dramatic eye rolling and grunt of irritation. "What's going on with you?"

"And you care why?"

She didn't have answer for that question. She folded her arms over her stomach. "You've been acting weird ever since the end of Dominatus and I want to know why."

He let out a snort of derision. "Dominatus, Sis?" He turned a black glare on her. "Dominatus never happened. It never existed."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Incredible," she breathed. "So that's it, huh. You're just going to brush it all under the rug and pretend it never happened."

His jaw tightened visibly, but he did not respond.

"If you do that," she continued, "then they've won. Raines has won."

His silence was like a stonewall between them, so she tried a different avenue. "What about Amelia?"

Still he refused to answer or to even look at her. Finally, she'd had all she could take and grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to face her. "If you think I'm going to just let this go-"

"What do you want from me?" he finally exploded, shoving her off of him. "You tell me every chance you get that I'm not a part of your family so why do you suddenly want to be my friend? You should be happy that I'm miserable; gloating over it even." He backed as far away from her as he could while she remained rooted to the floor, stunned by his outburst. "Or maybe you are," he ranted on, "Maybe this whole caring bit is just a twisted way of showing that."

"It's not," she said, struggling to regain a hold on the situation. "It's just that-"

"Just that what?" he demanded harshly. "Just that you want me to tell you that I've changed? That all these revelations have made me see the light and strive to be a better person?" His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "Well, it hasn't. My agenda is the same as it always has been and my determination is even greater than it was before."

She swore at him in frustration. "Lyle, if you'd just shut up and listen to me…"

The elevator chimed as it stopped at its destination and doors opened. Lyle turned away without looking at her. "Save it, Sis, for someone who cares."

_**Preach all you want, but who's gonna save me? I keep a gun on the book that you gave me- lock and load… So give me all your poison and give me all your pills… And give me all your hopeless thoughts…**_

* * *

He was home, of that she was certain. She had followed him to his apartment to apologize, though that was not the word she would use. Now she stood outside of his place, knocking on the door with no response. After several minutes, she gave up and returned to her car. As she turned on the engine, her gaze fell on her cell phone, which she picked up to place one final call.

**Ring, ring, ring!** The answering machine kicked on. "_Lyle? Lyle, I know you're home. Pick up the phone!" She didn't truly expect him to answer._

Night had fully fallen by the time she reached her place. Her eyes burned from weariness- weariness from trying to understand her brother; weariness from all she had been through recently. It was cold inside her home; the kind of cold that no amount of heat could chase away. She sighed heavily as she checked her answering machine- no messages.

A shadow passed along the wall as she made he way back to the bedroom. She paused, instinctively on-guard, and watched the phantom make its way towards the living room. It was paranoid, she knew, to follow the figment of her overworked mind, but she did so anyway. The apparition passed over the table where the phone rested and paused by the front door before disappearing completely.

Parker blinked- she was back where she started. Dragging a tired hand through her mussed tresses, she turned towards the center of the room and froze. The light on the answering machine was flashing though the phone had never rang. With unfounded trepidation, she reached for the machine and played the message.

"I guess I just missed you," Jarod's voice seemed to fill the entire house, rising above the hammering of her pulse. "Too bad. Anyway, I left you something on the front step. Sweet dreams, Miss Parker."

_What the_…? was all that she could think. Warily, she cracked open the front door. Sitting on the stoop was a wire cage containing a black floppy-eared bunny contentedly nibbling at food pellets. Parker lifted the cage until it was at eyelevel. It was then that she saw the pale blue ribbon around the animal's neck and the envelope that was attached to it.

Inside, she settled down on the couch and took the rabbit out of its cage. Within the envelope was a card that read Sorry about Your Loss above a bouquet of forget-me-nots. On the inside was a note in Jarod's neat penmanship:

_While nothing can replace what was lost- Snow White needs a home and can help fill the void. –J_

Parker looked down at the creature nestled in her arms.

_Snow White_? There wasn't a speck of white on the animal and she smiled a small smile, which she hadn't done in a very long while.

* * *

**_Listen, listen …_**

The night was damp and the clouds that hid the moon threatened to release the rain they had been holding back for so long. He stood in the alcove between two buildings with a letter in his hands. It was the most recent one she had sent. The pages were rumpled from use- he had read and reread the letter probably a hundred times since it arrived the day before.

A drop of rain fell from the heavens and landed on the paper, smearing the flourish at the end of her signature. Carefully, he folded letter and replaced it in its envelope before concealing it in the interior pocket of his coat. He sighed and watched as his breath materialized in the cold before evaporating without a hint.

Another drop of rain fell and he turned his jacket collar up and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He walked down the streets of Blue Cove sinking further into his melancholy as he pondered the contents of her letter.

**_Listen to each drop of rain whispering secrets in rain… Frantically searching for someone to hear that story be more than it hides…_**

The last time he had seen her was in a pizzeria in Brooklyn, happy and smiling surrounded by good friends and family. For a few hours, he indulged his fantasy that she was his and those around her were his friends and family, too- it was closest he had been to happiness in his life. But those hours escaped from him all too quickly and the time to return to his reality was imminent.

"_Thank you," she smiled, her eyes shining with a light he had never seen before. "For everything. You've given me my hope back, Bobby."_

_It was his good deed for the millennium. He smiled, but there was sadness behind it._

"_What's wrong?" Her contentedness turned to concern._

_She never missed a thing. He shook his head. "Nothing. I was just thinking."_

"'_Bout what?"_

"_You."_

_She smiled, happy again. "Do you really have to go?"_

"_Yes."_

_Her shoulders dropped slightly. "When will I see you again?"_

_He said nothing. Turning away from her, he looked up at the sky- storm clouds were gathering._

"_Bobby?"_

_In response, he kissed her forehead, his eyes still on the clouds._

"_You better get back inside. It looks like rain."_

_**Please don't let go… Can't we stay for a while? It's just too hard to say goodbye… Listen to the rain**_

He had convinced himself that things could never last between them; that she would make him weak- he could not and would not let that happened. He had to get away and stay away. She called his private number frequently and wrote religiously, but he never returned her calls or answered her letters. To do so would only feed the emotions he sought to kill. ****

Listen to the rain- weeping… I stand alone in the storm suddenly sweet words take hold… "Hurry," they say, "for you haven't much time… You may feel you're alone…But I'm here still with you…"

The rain splattered on the concrete faster now and he quickened pace to match the rhythm of the falling droplets. He had to get away from the feelings, to drown her scent in another aroma, to purge his mind of the memories. He needed…

The heavens unleashed their fury as though as physical manifestation of the squall that churned within him. A tremendous surge of lightening illuminated the building before him. The restaurant's old hand painted sign swung precariously in the gale.

It was a curious the name of the place and with nothing better to do, he decide to see what was inside. It was there that he found what he needed.

_The Hidden Truth…_

He needed a new obsession.**_  
_**

**_Just remember to listen to the rain…

* * *

_**

_**"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly; "'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you may spy. The way into my parlor is up a winding stair, and I have many curious things to show when you are there."**_

_**"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "to ask me is in vain, for who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again." **_

"He's here again, Mei." The mischievous Sunni winked scandalously at the doe-eyed waitress. "I'm actually jealous of you- I wish he was interested in me!" She giggled as though it was absurd to be jealous of the shy, dowdy girl.

"You can have him," Mei returned quietly, her cheeks burning. She made her way over to the patron Sunni's comments concerned. It was the fifth time this week he had been in and it seemed as though he had singled her out from the other girls.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lyle," she greeted him shyly. "What can I get for you today, sir?"

"What do you suggest?"

Every day he responded the same to her query. Every day he ordered whatever she suggested. Every day he asked about her interests and her life. Every day, every day….

Few people ever noticed her and even fewer took an actual interest in her. The girls she worked with were interested only in ridiculing her and she had no friends as she had little chance to meet anyone outside of work. So when such a handsome and distinguish man as Mr. Lyle took notice of her…

He had asked her out several times, but she was too afraid to accept his invitations. It had been drilled into her head since she was a tiny girl not to talk to strangers, and the murders of a couple of girls Sunni knew had only further encouraged her fear of unfamiliar people- especially men.

She quickly jotted down his order and scurried off to the kitchen.

_**"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high. Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly. "There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin, and if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you in!"**_

_**"Oh no, no," said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said, they never, never wake again who sleep upon your bed!"**_

He was back again the following day and the day after that. Mei was near tears when he came in and he genuinely disturbed to see her so upset and invited her join him at his table on her break.

His charm was so beguiling that she could not help but tell him what had made her day so awful. So exhilarating was it to have someone to confide in that she continued talking, revealing the intimate details of her life to him until her break was over.

As he was leaving the restaurant, he gave her a sad smile and said he was sorry that things were so tough for her. Then he asked her to join him for dinner.

"Oh, no, Mr. Lyle, I couldn't possibly! I've taken too much of your time already. I'm sure I've completely bored you."

"Nonsense," he said good-naturedly. "You'll go out with me yet."

_**Said the cunning spider to the fly: "Dear friend, what can I do to prove the warm affection I've always felt for you? I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice; I'm sure you're very welcome - will you please to take a slice?**_

_**"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "kind sir, that cannot be: I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"**_

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" he asked the next time he came in.

She look stunned and turned wide eyes on him. Silently, she shook her head.

He smiled to himself. In truth, she wasn't all that beautiful- perhaps with different clothes and hair and bit of makeup. However, he had yet to meet a woman who wasn't eventually seduced by blarney, which he lavished on her liberally.

She was still somewhat afraid of him and still turned down his invitations to dinner, but she had revealed crucial information about herself- information that one should never tell a stranger. He was beginning to feel like his old self again and it was good to back in form.

She continued to deny his requests for the rest of the week.

_**"Sweet creature!" said the spider, "you're witty and you're wise; how handsome are your gauzy wings; how brilliant are your eyes! I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf; If you'd step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."**_

_**"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say, and, bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."**_

_**The spider turned him round about, and went into his den, for well he knew the silly fly would soon come back again: So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly, and set his table ready to dine upon the fly; then came out to his door again and merrily did sing: "Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with pearl and silver wing; your robes are green and purple; there's a crest upon your head; your eyes are like diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"**_

Two weeks passed and she was growing anxious to see him again, despite herself. Fourteen days with no sight of him and she now regretted rejecting him. Work was one long string of rude customers and Sunni took great delight in reminding Mei how stupid she was to let "that one" go and that she was a fool for thinking he'd ever come back.

Still, she entertained the fantasy of him returning to take her away from her miserable life. And come back he did, almost a week later, bear gifts of the expensive kind.

She did not say "no" this time.

_**Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly, hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by; With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer grew, thinking only of her brilliant eyes and green and purple hue, thinking only of her crested head. Poor, foolish thing! At last up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast; He dragged her up his winding stair, into the dismal den - Within his little parlor - but she ne'er came out again!**_

Their courtship was a whirlwind and Mei lived like a princess. Life was better than she'd ever dreamed, but she quickly learned that sometimes the clichés were true: if it's too good to be true it probably is.

Soon her world came crashing down and not long afterwards, Mei vanished.

**_And now, dear little children, who may this story read, to idle, silly flattering words I pray you ne'er give heed: unto an evil counselor close heart and ear and eye, and take a lesson from this tale of the spider and the fly._**

And everything was as if _Dominatus_ had never occurred…

_**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

To Be Continued in The World Is Not Enough: Ashes of Eden


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